


I'd Lie

by i_kinda_like_writing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Derek is a Good Alpha, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone lives, F/F, M/M, Meddling pack, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, mentions of Kate Argent, mentions of Paige, no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 21:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2403557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_kinda_like_writing/pseuds/i_kinda_like_writing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cora agrees to help Stiles with the clean-up while Derek takes a shower. “You love Derek, don’t you?” She asks as she dries the dishes Stiles hands her.<br/>Stiles glances at Cora before looking back at the dish he’s washing.<br/>“Of course not.”</p><p>*~*~*</p><p>	Stiles lied a lot. It’s not really his fault, what with werewolves in his life and an unsuspecting Sheriff.<br/>There were the big lies, like that his best friend didn’t have a once-a-month-furry-little-problem and that Stiles’ life wasn’t in danger almost every waking second because he was the token squishy human of their pack.<br/>There were the small lies, like that he really did take the garbage out, or No Scott, it’s not weird that you like to stalk Allison on the full moon.<br/>But if there was one thing Stiles consistently lied about it would be a certain grumpy, stubbly werewolf with emotional constipation a laxative couldn’t fix.<br/>Yes, Stiles lied about Derek. To Derek, to the pack, to his father, to himself.<br/>If you asked Stiles about Derek, he’d lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first fic on AO3 so I hope you enjoy! See end of work for more notes.

Derek pulls up in front of the Stilinski house and turns off the engine. He’d get out, but Stiles had already asked him not to. Stiles doesn’t need his pesky-and nosy- neighbor Mrs. Carmichael spreading rumors about Stiles being picked up late at night by “that Hale boy”. The front door to the home opens and out comes said clumsy, ADHD ridden human in a red hoodie, his backpack dangling from one hand. The door closes behind him and Stiles rushes to the Camaro, sliding in the passenger seat.

“What took you so long?” Stiles mumbles, pulling his seatbelt on. Derek frowns at Stiles in that way that really means _I want to scowl but you’ve been calling me Sourwolf every time I do so I won’t_.

“Isaac needed help with his English homework.” Derek says. If something doesn’t just melt inside of Stiles.

“Aw, helping your little pup are you?” Stiles grins as Derek turns away, the tips of his ears a little pinker than they were before.

“Shut up.” Derek starts the engine and pulls away from the quiet home that’s now empty. “You know what we’re doing, right?”

“Yeah, stalking a succubus to see if she’s a threat or not. I got it.” Stiles pulls out a notebook and opens it, jotting down some words.

“What’re you doing?” Derek glances over when he can without killing Stiles and mortally wounding himself.

“AP Calculus. Need a scholarship.” Stiles starts chewing on his pen cap, something he does when he’s stressed. “College is too expensive and too close not to worry about it.” Derek doesn’t know what to say, presumably, so he doesn’t. They get to a diner where the succubus is currently working and exit the car. A waitress named Trish in a blue uniform leads them to a table by the window and tells them to wait for their waitress.

“Do you know how to tell for signs?” Derek asks. Stiles looks up from his work and nods stiffly, pulling a half crumpled piece of paper from his bag with ease. The action easily defines Stiles as a whole; messy organization. Stiles hands him the paper which lists the main signs that a succubus is killing for its energy.

“These are the ones I could find in the bestiary. I found some others that made sense but I thought it best to leave them off just in case.” Stiles says. Derek nods, looking up and down the list before folding it neatly and tucking it in his jacket pocket.

"Hello boys. What can I get you?” The succubus, now named Riley, grins toothily at them.

“Water’s fine. Coke with lemon for him.” Stiles says, writing again. He doesn’t catch Derek’s surprised look at the fact that Stiles knows Derek’s favorite drink.

“Lovely. You boys on a date?” Stiles starts to splutter.

“Us? As in me and him? Together? No, no way, _have you **seen** him_?” Stiles tramples himself with how many words fighting to escape his mouth at once. Derek’s ears pink again as Stiles’ whole face does that splotchy red thing he hates.

“Alright.” The succubus grins before walking off. Stiles mumbles to himself and continues with his math. After they place their orders and finish, they’ve deemed this succubus a strictly sexual one, if the amount of times she propositioned Derek are anything to go by.

“At least that’s one less thing to deal with.” Stiles says, thrumming his fingers against the door panel as they drive back.

“Things seemed to have calmed down for a while.” Derek says. Stiles instantly groans at the obvious jinx.

“Dude! You totally just screwed us. Whenever someone says something like that, everything always goes to shit.” Stiles says, pointedly looking at Derek like this should mean something to him. Derek holds back a snort.

“Don’t call me dude.” And of course, that’s what Derek takes from that. Stiles sighs, seemingly thinking Derek’s hopeless to humanity and Derek smiles small and to himself. Soon he pulls up in front of a still empty house. Stiles gets out and closes the door, taking a deep breath as he looks at the house. Ever since the nogitsune Stiles hates being alone in his own home, especially when he sleeps. Right now, standing in front of the empty and ominous house, Stiles feels about a foot tall in comparison. The window of the car behind him rolls down and Derek calls through it.

“Do you want to stay at mine tonight?” Stiles turns around to look at the leather clad car seat. It’s never looked so appealing to Stiles in his life. And that’s a lot to say, judging by how just three months ago Stiles jumped into that very seat, narrowly escaping a very messy and wendigo-caused death. Stiles considers it but shakes his head.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks, though.” Derek waits until Stiles is in the house before driving off, and something in the comfort of that action makes Stiles feel warm enough to fall asleep alone.

 

*~*~*

 

“You can _not_ be serious!” Stiles groans and tugs at his own hair. “Derek! No one else here can break the barrier, it’s _mountain ash_!” Stiles paces again, too angry to stay still. “Stop being dense!”

“Lydia could-”

“Lydia’s ears start bleeding the second she gets too close to the building!”

“Then Allison could-”

“Die because they’d recognize her the second she entered!” Stiles stops pacing and turns to look at him. “I have to go in there. Isaac is in there, if I don’t try, he’s dead.” Derek looks like he wants to argue further.

“But, but,” Derek’s at a loss.

“I get it; you don’t want to risk Isaac’s life at the hands of the squishy human. But if I go in there and break the barrier, you all can rush in and save him, everything goes perfectly. I promise it’ll work.” Stiles says.

“You think that’s it?” Derek’s eyes narrow at Stiles. Stiles squints in confusion.

“What?”

“You think I don’t want you walking into a hunter’s headquarters, guarded by big men with bigger guns, is because I’d be risking Isaac’s life by letting you be the biggest part of the plan?” Derek steps closer. Stiles shrugs.

“Sure, isn’t that it?” Stiles’ frown deepens as Derek gets one of his seething scowls on his face. “What else would it be?”

“Maybe that I don’t want to risk your life?!” Derek’s calm facade breaks as he raises his arms in rage. “What is wrong with you?! Do you not understand how dangerous this is for you?! You could _die_ Stiles!”

“Derek,” Stiles is left gaping at him.

“How could you be so stupid?!” Stiles’ eyes harden and he marches the small four feet up to Derek and gets in his face.

“I’m not being stupid.”

“Putting your life in danger?! Sounds pretty stupid to me!” Derek growls- _growls_ \- at Stiles. But the human, who’s spent his last three years with werewolves, isn’t intimidated by a growl.

“I’m getting Isaac back! That’s final!” When Stiles calms down, he realizes that Derek and himself are very close and both breathing heavily. He also realizes the pack is looking at them in partial fear, curiosity, and optimism. Stiles flushes that red, blotchy color and turns away. “I’m getting him back.” Derek huffs and stomps away, yelling out a final “Meeting over” before disappearing up the stairs.

“Stiles?” Scott walks over and places a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “You alright?”

“He loves to argue, I swear.” Stiles says, trying to laugh it off. He shakes his head. “I’m uh, I’m gonna head home. See you later, Scotty.” Stiles grabs his bag and jacket before leaving the loft and driving home, feeling upset for no other reason than the knowledge that Derek’s mad at him.

 

*~*~*

 

“Boyd! Stop!” Derek uses his Alpha voice, so Boyd is forced to stop running towards the witch. It’s taken a long time for them to get here, with the witch subdued, tied in a chair with enchantments holding her back. She’s been terrorizing the town for two long months, going so far as to kidnap Erica. Boyd’s been on edge for weeks.

“Derek?” Boyd asks through a fanged mouth. “She _took_ Erica.”

“We don’t kill if we don’t have to.” Derek says.

“But-”

“No buts. We’ll hand her over to Deaton.” Derek says. “That’s final.”

“Derek, what if she escapes?” Isaac asks from the other side of the room.

“We don’t kill unless it’s dire that we do. You know that.” Derek says. “We’ll give her to Deaton.”

“But, but, _Derek_.” Boyd whines like it’s physically paining him to leave the witch alive.

“Boyd, this is just because your mate was taken. You have to know it isn’t right to kill her, somewhere deep down.” Derek says. Stiles almost laughs. He’s always known that Derek has a black and white view of the world, but he never thought it extended this far. The witch in that chair tortured them for two months, two long months. Even Scott is willing to let her die. But the Alpha has spoken, so they don’t kill her.

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles moves around the loft kitchen and whips up some snacks for the pack. It’s movie night, _Frozen_ because Isaac hasn’t seen it yet and he’s just going to _love_ Olaf. It’s the sing-a-long version and they’ve made a bet about how long it will take for Derek to start singing along during Let It Go. Stiles is making snicker doodles, his mom’s old recipe. Recently he’s been looking for new things to try out on the pack and he stumbled across her cookbook. He had spent a good amount of time smiling through tears at the memories of smells and laughter coming from the kitchen.

“Stiles!” Scott whines. “Are they almost done?” Stiles laughs to himself as Isaac and Erica join in.

“Calm your tails!” Stiles calls. “They’ll be done in a minute.” He pulls them out of the oven exactly two minutes and 36 seconds later-Scott counted- and has passed them out just in time for Lydia to press play. Overall the night goes well; everyone boos at Hans’ entrance, much to Isaac’s confusion, Derek breaks at the first “Let it Go”, and Erica and Stiles cuddle together during their short lived sniffles after Anna is frozen solid, even though they know she’ll be fine.

Months ago, Derek had seemed appalled at the idea of pack nights. Now, Stiles doesn’t think Derek could live without them. They go shopping sometimes, movie nights, game nights; they even started watching Supernatural every week and do shots whenever they screw up a reference (the werewolves doing the special wolfsbane concoction of alcohol Lydia made). Stiles is glad that Derek can have something like this. It might not be the same as his old family, but he hopes that this at least gives the allusion of a family. Once mostly everyone is asleep, Derek gets off the couch.

They always seem to get shoved together in the weirdest ways on pack night. At the moment, Stiles is shoved against the armrest of the couch, Erica’s head on his stomach and Isaac’s feet in his lap. Erica’s body is in Boyd’s lap, who’s leaning against Allison on his other side. Scott and Isaac are cuddled up on the floor together, both upside down with their feet on the couch (Isaac’s in Stiles’ lap, as earlier mentioned, and Scott’s in Allison’s). Lydia has occupied an extra chair for herself, Jackson under her as a cushion. After Derek’s standing, he grabs a throw blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over them all, a fond smile on his sleepy face. Stiles watches with a soft smile as Derek picks up the dirty dishes on the coffee table and heads into the kitchen.

It’s something about Derek after these nights. The almost-always-there pain in Derek’s eyes dims down to nothing, his smile is as soft as the thumb-hole sweaters he wears, and everything in him just seems relaxed. Derek’s always walking around with this tension in his shoulders, and after nights with the pack, his shoulders droop a little, settle. Stiles always loves this Derek the best, because he’s happy, and it’s so nice to see Derek happy for once.

Stiles looks around, making sure no one’s watching him look at Derek in such a revealing manner, only to see Lydia, who is actually still awake. She’s looking at him with a curiosity Stiles doesn’t like. Suddenly, her face softens and Stiles knows she gets it. Her perfectly glossed lips open and she softly asks, “Do you love him?”

Stiles glances back at the kitchen before looking to Lydia and shaking his head, _No_.

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles bursts into the loft with his usual amount of hyperactivity and enthusiasm. He drops his bag down on the couch, then himself, before picking up his discarded homework and starting to work on it. He knows that no one’s here. Isaac’s at French club with Allison, his mother spoke French and it makes him feel closer to her. Stiles knows how he feels, just recently Stiles had purchased a few “Teach Yourself Polish” books to try and brush up on his own knowledge of the language. Boyd is at basketball practice, something Derek got him into, as well as baseball, and Erica is there, watching and cheering like the boisterous girlfriend she is. Scott’s studying, with Lydia there to oversee that studying actually occurs. Jackson’s probably with his golfing instructor. Ever since Scott became good at lacrosse, Jackson needed something for himself. Golfing helped his anger issues and he found that he really liked it.

Derek’s never home during the day so Stiles figures he’s safe here. He’d be at home, but his dad isn’t there and he really doesn’t feel safe there alone anymore. For some reason Stiles feels safe here, despite the fact that he knows many of the pack has been kidnapped from/harmed/emotionally scarred in this very place. Stiles starts to hum as he finishes up Biology and starts onto World History. He’s just writing about how the Byzantine fell and how that led to the discovery of the Americas when someone clears their throat. Stiles jumps a mile in the air before turning to look at Derek.

“Jesus, Derek. Warn a guy.” Stiles sighs and settles back on the couch. It comforts him. He may not be a werewolf, but he smells the pack on this couch. The punching blandness of Erica’s lipstick, the fruity shine of Lydia’s conditioner, the cologne Jackson uses way too much of, the slight hint of gunpowder from Allison, Boyd’s faint smell of rubber from his shoes rubbing against the basketball court, Isaac’s lemony body wash, and Scott’s almost constant smell of chocolate due to the stash of Reese’s (that Stiles definitely steals once in a while) he keeps under his pillow. Derek’s smell is just Derek, always there and always the most impressionable to Stiles’ human senses.

“Why are you here?” Derek asks, eyebrows furrowing. Stiles blushes a little and glances down at his work.

“I uh, come over every Wednesday. And Thursday. And Monday. No one’s usually here and it’s just…” Stiles shrugs, looking back up at Derek. “I like it here.” Derek nods, doesn’t push him further for information, and sits down at the end of the couch, near Stiles’ feet.

“It’s alright.”

“So, uh, what’re you doing home? You’re never here.” Stiles says, starting to tap his pen against his textbook rhythmically.

“Usually I’m at the Sheriff’s department. I take the afternoon shifts. I got today off because, uh.” Derek shakes his head. “I got today off.” Stiles nods, aware that Derek had studied criminology in college and that he started working with his dad.

“Cool.” But Stiles’ mind can’t leave it there. What could’ve possibly happened on this day that would make him stay home? Laura’s birthday is in August, the fire happened in March, what could… “Derek?”

“Hmm?” Derek hums in response, but doesn’t look away from the window. “Is today the day that Paige…” Stiles trails off. Derek’s head snaps towards Stiles, probably not knowing that Stiles knew. Stiles doesn’t provide an answer, just raises an eyebrow. Derek nods and looks down, somewhere in the direction of Stiles’ knee. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Stiles nods, tucks his cold feet under Derek’s thigh, and returns to history. They sit in quiet companionship, Stiles lost in his work and Derek lost in the book he’s picked up from the coffee table. By the time Stiles has finished his work, they’ve got a good hour and a half before any of the pack should be there. Stiles moves to the kitchen, he’d been hoping to try out a S’mores Brownie Pie recipe he has from one of Lydia’s old nannies, at a bake sale in 7th grade. She used to say that it was her favorite, and when her parents were fighting, her nanny would make it for her with a glass of hot cocoa and read her fairytales. Stiles cuts Derek a slice, brings out a mug of cocoa with cinnamon on top because he knows that’s how Derek’s mom made it, and sits down next to him on the couch, eating his own.

“I always loved the rain.” Stiles sighs, glancing at the window. “My mom would let me sleep in and afterwards, we’d go out in our rain coats and jump in the puddles until my dad came home.” Stiles takes a sip of his cocoa, some of the cinnamon leaving a mustache on his upper lip.

“My mom would take out the whole family and we’d play hide-n-seek. It made it hard because we couldn’t use our senses.” Derek says, a similar facial hair like shape on his upper lip. They’re quiet for a while longer, letting the rain speak alone. “I saw them last night.” Derek’s voice breaks the silence.

“Who?” Stiles’ eyebrows furrow.

“Paige’s parents.” Stiles mumbles a soft “Oh” but otherwise stays silent. “They told me-” Derek’s eyes squeeze shut. “They told me they missed me, coming around. When we were dating, we’d go to her house all the time, my family was always so nosy, and she was an only child. I loved dinners at her house, away from the craziness that was my family. Afterwards, I-I just couldn’t face them.”

“What did they think had happened?” Stiles asks softly.

“A mountain lion.” Derek laughs, a bitter laugh Stiles hasn’t missed once from Derek’s grumpy days. Stiles reaches out and places a hand on Derek’s knee, squeezing lightly.

“I’d tell you it wasn’t your fault, but I doubt you’d believe me.” Stiles reaches over and takes Derek’s fork, using it to steal a bite from Derek’s slice. He had finished his, but Derek got a second one so Stiles doubts he would mind to share. Derek takes the fork back, taking his own bite.

“It was my fault. But I think I’ve accepted it now. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, but I made them, so I have to learn from them and move on.” Derek says. Stiles eats the last piece, pats Derek’s thigh, and smiles.

“I think you just reached werewolf Nirvana.” Derek smiles, despite himself, and Stiles counts it as a win.

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles follows Lydia around as she peruses the aisles. He’s dying under a mountain of clothing, something he’s sure the Alpha werewolf behind him with _super strength_ could definitely be helping with, but Lydia refuses. She says if they’re Stiles’ clothes, he has to carry them. He doesn’t dare mention that about two thirds of the clothes are actually dresses Lydia is going to wear, and half of the remaining third are for Jackson, who’s in the bathroom at the moment.

“Are we almost finished?” Stiles asks, panting only a little. Give him a break, he’s been walking around this mall for the better part of two hours, most of which was spent with twice his weight in sequined dresses in his arms.

“Patience, Stilinski, perfection takes time. They didn’t build Rome in a day.” Lydia says.

“No, it was built over 870 years, but this isn’t Rome, these are clothes for a dinner with all of the pack’s families.” Stiles says, groaning as another dress is added. Lydia smiles over at him in her “I’m proud” way.

“That’s why you’re only one point behind me in the race for valedictorian.” Then she turns back to her work. “But this is important. It’s the first formal thing we’ve been to as a pack.”

“It’s Thanksgiving, Lydia!” Stiles groans. “And everybody’s already met everybody.”

“Hush, now for Derek’s turn.” Lydia turns her assessing gaze onto Derek, who looks similar to a deer caught in headlights.

“Um, what?”

“I’m dressing Stiles, Jackson, Scott with Allison’s help, Boyd with Erica’s help, Isaac, and you. You’re the last one, everyone else is already done. Now come on, we’re going to the male department.” Lydia turns and starts clacking away in her heels. “And for God’s sake, get Stiles a cart before he crumbles. He’s a squishy human.”

“I love you, Lydia Martin!” Stiles calls, grinning ear to ear. Stiles doesn’t need to see her to know she’s grinning just the same. After Derek finds a cart and Stiles is relieved from his pack mule duty, they head in the direction Lydia left in.

“We need something to complement your… assets.” Lydia says, smirking in that cheeky way of hers. Derek looks less than impressed. “Something that highlights those glorious shoulders and of course, your ass.” Stiles finds himself blushing at her description.

“Uh, Lydia.” Derek almost seems embarrassed. It’s terribly endearing.

“Hush, this is nice, ooh, this too.” To put it simply, the pile grows significantly larger. They head over to the dressing rooms, where Jackson meets up with them, and all go into their respective rooms. Stiles looks through all of them self-consciously, but he tries them all on and narrows them down to three. “Stiles!”

“Yeah?”

“Which are left?” She asks.

“The dark blue one, the dark grey, and the light blue one.” Stiles says.

“Throw out the light blue, that was an impulse and ridiculous.” Stiles adds that to the “No” pile. “Come out in the dark grey one, we’re all in our final choices too.” Stiles pulls on the suit, takes a deep breath, and exits the changing room. Lydia’s in a flowing white dress with beautiful lace and sleeves. She looks stunning, as always, especially with Jackson behind her in a light grey suit that certainly shows off his attributes.

“So uh?” Stiles shuffles nervously. He’s never felt like he was someone to look at, not with all of his friends looking like supermodels. Having Lydia look at him with this calculating glint in her eyes makes him uncomfortable in so many ways.

“Amazing. I’m amazing. Look at you; I should’ve start picking out your clothes years ago. God, Stilinski, where have you been hiding all that?” Lydia’s grinning at him widely. She reaches out and turns him towards the mirror and he looks… good. Like, really good. Stiles smiles at himself.

“I look… nice.”

“Nice? You look incredible. I am a wonderful human being and you should never stop praising me.” Lydia says. Stiles grins, agreeing easily enough. Then, Stiles sees Derek in the mirror. Derek’s looking at Stiles in a way Stiles hasn’t seen him look at anyone else before, so he can’t place it. But he looks great, breathtaking. The suit is a pitch black with a simple white undershirt, but the cut compliments Derek’s physique perfectly. Stiles only looks away because Lydia pinches his ass.

“Lydia!”

“Sorry.” She seems anything but. “It looks great in that suit. You should start wearing tighter jeans.” She sighs. “Anyway, let’s all change. We still have to pick out ties.” After putting back everything except their final choices, Lydia leads them over to the tie racks. Stiles grins manically when he sees one with a comical Batman on it. He holds up for Lydia who flattens him with a look. Stiles pouts but puts it back anyway. “Jackson, try this,” Lydia holds a silver tie up against Jackson’s cheek and grins. “Perfect.”

“I already have a silver tie.” Jackson says.

“It’s not as shiny as this one.” Lydia drapes it over Jackson’s shoulder before turning to Derek. “What’s your favorite color, Derek?”

“Green,” Stiles says absent mindedly, looking through the other ties even though he knows Lydia will ultimately be the decider of which one he’s going to get. When all Stiles hears is silence, he looks up to see Lydia smirking at him, Jackson furrowing his eyebrows in his “confused face”, and Derek frowning.

“How do you know that?” Jackson asks. Lydia doesn’t say anything, just starts to look through the green ties.

“He told me once.” That, in fact, wasn’t true. Stiles just knows it because he had seen pictures of the Hale house before the fire, and Derek’s room was covered in green. He suspected Mrs. Hale probably decorated the room, but had at least asked for Derek’s preferred color. But Stiles thinks it would sound better if he said he got the information from Derek.

“You know Derek’s favorite color.” Jackson says, voice bland. He looks to Lydia who mouths “Later”. Stiles flushes and goes back to persuading Lydia to get him the Batman tie.

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles mumbles to himself as he tries to pull the yams and the biscuits out of the oven at the same time.

“Hey!” He’s saved from a burn by a strong werewolf hand and looks over to see Derek putting down the pans with his bare hand.

“Derek!” Stiles pulls off his oven mitts and grabs Derek’s burnt hand. “Your hand,”

“It’ll heal.” Derek pulls his hand away and looks around the kitchen. “You seem to have a lot going on in here.”

“Yeah, well, Ms. McCall left me for my father, Erica’s mom doesn’t know how to cook, Boyd’s grandma thinks I’m being racist for asking her to help, or sexist, I can’t tell, Jackson’s parents can’t cook worth a damn, Chris Argent still thinks I flail too much to be safe within a four foot radius of me, and Lydia’s mom is busy socializing.” Stiles sighs. “And unless you know how to make Brown Butter Mashed Potatoes or Golden Macaroni and Cheese, you need to get outta my kitchen.”

“I can make mashed potatoes.” Derek says. Stiles narrows his eyes at the werewolf, but lets him try anyway.

“Follow the recipe exactly.” Stiles warns him, waving his gravy cover fork threateningly. “Or else,” Derek smiles to himself when Stiles looks away. They make Thanksgiving dinner in companionable silence. After everything is set out and people start digging in, Stiles feels instantly better about himself.

“Where’d you learn to cook like this, Stiles?” Mrs. Whittemore asks. “I’d love if you could give our housemaid some tips.”

“This is the best cornbread I’ve ever had!” Grandma Boyd grins.

“Mommy, can we make Mac-n-chee-th-e like Th-tile-th?” Erica’s little sister asks. She has trouble with her “S’s”.

“Where did you get this mashed potatoes recipe?” Ms. McCall asks.

“My mom got it from a friend when I was 6.” Stiles doesn’t mention that the friend is actually Eric Hale. Talia Hale couldn’t cook worth shit, apparently, so Eric did all the cooking in the house. “Derek actually made it.” They then proceed to compliment Derek to the point of blushing, not just on his ears, but the tops of his cheeks too. Derek helps Stiles clean up as the kids play in the basement, the dads and some of the moms watch something with the football game, and the teens proceed to play some sort of game.

“Don’t the Whittemores have servants who can do this?” Derek asks as he cleans the third large pan in almost four minutes.

“I promised to clean. And I wanted to give the servants a night off.” Stiles puts away another dish.

“I know the recipe was my dad’s.” Derek says.

“How’d you know?” Stiles frowns at the cup he puts away.

“I used to help him on Thanksgiving. Laura did too.” Derek dries a gravy boat. “He gave it to your mom?”

“Yeah,” Stiles swallows hard. “We were at the library and my mom was looking for recipes. He just handed it to her and said “you’re welcome”.” Stiles smiles at the memory. Derek laughs softly.

“That was my dad.” Derek hands Stiles a plate. “He was human, originally, you know. My mom turned him after I was born. They thought it would be safest. They didn’t want such a powerful Alpha’s mate to be weak. My mom was worried about his safety.”

“Mates are actually real?” Stiles asks, tucking away another cup. Derek nods.

“Very real. It was funny, with my parents. They really switched the usual parental roles. My dad had a job he could do from home so he was like a stay-at-home-Dad. He did the cooking and the cleaning. Mostly because my mom couldn’t cook for her life.” Derek laughs softly and Stiles fakes a smile. The truth is, he’s overwhelmed. He’s known Derek for three years, and never once has he heard him talk about his family this much. Granted, Derek was a moody, grumpy Sourwolf for the first year and a half that Stiles knew him, but still. Something about Derek being so vulnerable, and voluntarily at that, makes Stiles feel warm. Derek clears his throat. “So uh, Lydia didn’t let you get the tie?” Stiles laughs, loudly and for real. Lydia and him had refused to agree that day at the store, so Stiles had left without a tie. Eventually, Lydia had come over to Stiles’ house with a compromise.

“Actually,” Stiles tugs the black tie out from under his jacket and shows Derek his prize. “We compromised.” Derek laughs brightly because at the end of [the tie](http://womeninfashion.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/503c4b801e923c2c01d73121aae8c991.jpg), in a small circle, it the Bat Signal.

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles walks into the Sheriff’s station and smiles at Jeanine.

“Hi Stiles, here to see your dad?” She asks. Stiles shakes his head, setting down his box on the counter.

“My dad’s out of town for a convention on how to control reckless teenagers in your neighborhood.” Stiles says, grinning. “I have no idea why.” Jeanine laughs. The truth was that Stiles’ dad was at a supernatural convention for law enforcement officers in “the know”. It’s going to help him learn how to deal with the abnormal Beacon Hills. Derek had suggested it.

“Still such a cutie, what do you have in the box?” She looks up and tries to see.

“Ah, a little gift for the hard working officers of Beacon County’s Sheriff Department.” Stiles opens the box and uses a napkin to hand Jeanine a donut. “These are my Salted Caramel Apple Cider Baked Donuts. It’s been getting cold out so I thought I’d warm you guys up.”

“Stiles, you’re a saint.” She smiles at him, biting into the donut.

“Oh, just wait until you try my Hot Chocolate Donuts with Marshmallow Frosting and a Chocolate Glaze. You’ll be naming the department after me.” Stiles blows her a kiss before taking the box into the other room. “I bring donuts!” The officers start crowding him, each getting one. The women kiss his cheek and the men pat him on the shoulder.

“Stiles,” Parrish smiles at the kid when he comes over to his desk. Stiles sits down on it and holds out a donut wrapped in a napkin.

“I saved you one.” Stiles sing-songs, waving the treat in front of his face.

“Don’t tease me, Stiles.” Parrish grins in the cheeky way of his.

“But babe, foreplay is the best part.” Parrish laughs and accepts the donut.

“I love it when you save this dirty talk just for me. Can’t say it when you’re dad’s around.” Parrish takes a bite and moans.

“Baby, you’re sounds, what they do to me!” Stiles swoons, making Parrish laugh despite the food in his mouth. Stiles grins over his shoulder at Parrish before walking to the back in search of Derek.

“Derek’s checking the cells.” Officer Campbell says.

“Thanks,” Stiles heads for the holding cells, in which he is intimately acquainted. Let’s just say, being a reckless child with your father as a Sheriff makes for some pretty unique time outs. When Stiles gets there, Derek seems to have a broken bar in his hands. “Derek?!” Stiles runs over. “What happened?”

“It snapped.” Derek says through gritted teeth.

“Well, here, I brought you a donut. And no, it’s not just to perpetuate the stereotype of cops only eating donuts.” Stiles says, smiling at Derek timidly. Derek turns, sniffs deeply, and accepts the treat. “And, because you’re my favorite, I left you a box of extra messy Fluffernutter donuts at the loft.”

“I’m your favorite?” Derek asks, making that frown that always seems just on the edge of a smile.

“Course, who else would it be?” Stiles grins, but then it falters when Derek’s frown deepens.

“Parrish? You guys are closer.” Derek looks very interested in his donut, which Stiles appreciates, he worked hard on these.

“Pshh, Parrish is just my booty call. You and me, we’ve got real feelings.” Stiles laughs and pokes Derek’s cheek. “Your shift is almost over, right?”

“Yeah. Why?” Derek side eyes him as he tries to put the bar back in place.

“Scott dropped me off on his way to Allison’s. I need a ride home.” Stiles says.

“Yeah, I got off fifteen minutes ago. Come on,” Derek leaves the holding cell area and Stiles follows, leaving the almost empty box on Parrish’s desk.

“Don’t forget to share, lover,” Stiles blows him a kiss and walks away to the sound of Parrish’s laughter. Derek’s waiting outside, leaning against the wall with a leather jacket on his back. His jaw is tensed for some reason but his donut is gone, so Stiles figures it’s just because the sweet messed with Derek’s strict diet and workout schedule (Derek refuses to reveal if this is true or not, but how else would he look like a GQ model?).

“I parked far away so we’ll have to walk.” Derek says. Stiles shrugs and they start walking. “Why do you act that way with Parrish? Do you like him?”

“Like him? Yeah, of course. He’s awesome. And it’s pretty obvious he’s hot like fire but I don’t have romantic feelings for him. It’s like with Lydia, I love him, but I’m not in love with him.” Stiles says. “What about you?”

“In love?” Derek snorts; something Stiles has only heard him do in matters of Stiles being a sarcastic little shit. “I uh,” Derek runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think I’m going to fall in love.” Stiles laughs, not cruelly, but nervously, hoping Derek’s wrong.

“What? If anyone deserves to be happy it’s you.” Stiles shivers and pulls his flannel tighter to himself.

“My track record doesn’t really suggest a happy ending.” Derek slides off his jacket. “I’m content with having the pack be happy. I don’t need to fall in love, as long as you all find someone.” Derek hands the jacket to Stiles who looks at it like it’s going to blow up in his face.

“W-Why’d you give me this?” Stiles asks, not taking his eyes off the jacket.

“You’re cold.” Derek keeps walking like this doesn’t mean anything. Then Stiles realizes, _It doesn’t_. He puts on the jacket and resumes the conversation.

“I think the pack would be glad if you had someone.” Stiles says, pulling the jacket closer to him. “They wouldn’t want you to be alone.”

“I have you… all.” Derek says, stumbling a little over the word “all”.

“We’re going to college soon, Derek. You know that.” Stiles stops when they reach the Camaro, Derek stopping on the other side.

“But you’ll be close, right?” Derek asks. Stiles glances down. Sure, he’d applied to a few schools on the West Coast, safety schools. But Stiles really wanted to get into UMUC, University of Maryland University College. It has the best criminology program in the country.

“I’ll visit.” Stiles says. Derek nods like that decides it and gets into the car. Stiles sighs but does the same.

 

*~*~*

 

“Did you get all of the supplies?” Stiles asks, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pulls another batch of cupcakes out of the oven. He places the cupcakes on a cooling rack, switches the phone to speaker, and starts whipping the chocolate mousse icing.

“Of course,” Scott says. “Everything on the list. Pretzels, gumballs, black food gel, and gum paste.” Scott reads out loud.

“Are you driving here?” Stiles asks, finishing up the icing and grabbing the icing bags.

“Of course.”

“Then stop reading, get off the phone, and bring me my supplies before you get in a debilitating accident.” Stiles says. Scott laughs, says I love you in their totally brother way, and hangs up. Stiles sighs and sets down the phone. They’re doing this in Lydia’s kitchen because after Jackson’s, it’s the biggest. Jackson wants out of the house anyway, and Lydia’s mom, now a full time teacher, is still at school. It’s the day before Christmas break and all of the teachers have to finish up some final papers and tests. “Lydia!”

“Yes, Mom?” Lydia asks, popping her head in the room.

“Anyone here yet?” Stiles asks, ignoring the nickname. They’ve taken to calling him that since Thanksgiving and commenting on it would mean admitting he actually kind of liked it.

“Nope, just Jackson still.” Jackson was only here because he didn’t want to risk Stiles hitting on his girlfriend. Lydia and Stiles had laughed so hard at that. Jackson, bless his heart, didn’t understand. Most of the pack had already figured out Stiles was gay with a capital G (well, besides Scott. But Stiles told him a year ago, and Scott always needed a little help with obvious social indicators).

“Alright.” Stiles sighs, wrapping the end of an icing bag around the top of a measuring cup and securing it with a rubber band.

“Anything I can do to help?” Lydia asks.

“Um, can you spoon icing into icing bags?” Stiles asks. “Everyone needs one, so not too much in each.” Lydia nods and gets to her task. The first one is a little messy, but by the end she figures it out and the last two are perfect. Together they set each one at every member’s individual station. Just as Stiles sets down the last one, the doorbell goes off. Lydia leaves to answer it, being a good host, and returns with most of the pack, minus Isaac and Derek.

“Hey Mom!” They chorus. Stiles laughs.

“Get to your stations and when Isaac and Derek get here we’ll start.” Stiles walks to the sink and washes off his hands. Scott hands him the supplies and Stiles distributes them out.

“So we’re making [Rudolph the Reindeer cupcakes](http://www.craftymorning.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/08/reindeer-cupcake-idea-for-a-christmas-dessert1.jpg)?” Boyd asks.

“Yes.” Stiles nods. “And no, you can’t get out of this. If you don’t make one, you can’t have one.” Boyd groans, but Stiles knows it’s just for show. Two months ago Boyd had voluntarily helped Stiles make cake pops for the Halloween bake sale at school. The doorbell rings again and Stiles answers it because he’s the closest. Stiles opens the door in [his apron](https://www.etsy.com/listing/181958558/funny-apron-with-cute-saying-they-see-me) covered in flour that says “They see me rollin’, they hatin’” with a cartoon drawing of a rolling pin. Isaac laughs and hugs Stiles (for some reason, Isaac had really taken to Stiles recently. Stiles almost feels bad when he pulls back from their hugs). “Alright Pup, come on, time to make cupcakes.”

“Awesome!” Isaac pulls Stiles bodily into the kitchen. Stiles thinks he hears Derek’s laughter as he’s pulled, but since that sound has only been a legend, Stiles dismisses it.

“Alright everybody, listen carefully. I made the cupcakes and set up the icing, but the decoration is up to you. First, set a base layer for your icing, then a smaller one on top.” Stiles supervises as they do. “Good, good, now put the eyes on just above the smaller layer then use the black gel to put the pupil on top of it.” Stiles notices suddenly that Derek’s not at a station, but standing to the side. “Derek Hale,” Every turns to look.

“Ooh, Dad’s in trouble.” Erica says, using a fake whisper voice.

“Why aren’t you making a cupcake?” Stiles asks, his hands on his hips.

“Um, it’s uh, I thought it was just, uh, I don’t know.” Derek stutters, looking from Stiles to the last empty station.

“Well, now you do. Start your cupcake.” Derek drops his jacket, leaving him in a tight t-shirt that probably is Boyd’s, and starts frosting. Erica snickers and a few of the others seem to be holding them back, but Stiles shushes them with a look. They finish up the cupcakes, some making more than one, while Stiles cranks out a baker’s dozen. They box up a few of them (Stiles is planning on giving them out in the nursing home, local homeless center, and the Sheriff’s department) and take the rest into the living rooms. After finishing the cupcakes (and cleaning up) they sit down for Secret Santa.

“Ok, this one is for Scott,” Everyone is handed their single gift with no name tag on them and everyone opens them up. After they open them up, people have to guess who gave it to them.

“Allison’s first.” Lydia announces. Allison bites her lip and looks down at her gift; a monogrammed archer’s bracer that says “Argent Pack” on it.

“This is really expensive, so, I’m going with Lydia?” Allison looks up. Lydia shakes her head and Jackson flushes a little.

“I, uh, got it.” He says. Allison grins and kisses his cheek, mumbling a “thank you”.

“Boyd’s next,” Lydia reads from the list.

“I’m gonna guess Stiles? You’re the Mets fan, right?” Boyd asks, holding up his tickets to a game.

“What?! You have to take me, dude!” Stiles grins.

“So it wasn’t you?” Boyd asks. Stiles shakes his head and Allison raises her hand.

“Do you like them?” She smiles timidly. Boyd smiles back, a blinding smile.

“Of course. My parents liked them, they’re originally from New York.” Boyd says. Allison grins to herself.

“Next is Erica,”

“Ooh! Alright, I’m going with Lydia. I love [these](http://www.mylifeasmaya.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/b73a2fb102c55a41613938b8ceac5688.jpg)!” Erica grins, holding up her awesome [sassy shirts](http://www.lookhuman.com/design/16157-bitch). “I’m wearing [these](http://www.lookhuman.com/design/26498-bitchcraft) everywhere!” Lydia grins triumphantly.

“I know.” She smiles softer. “Isaac’s turn.”

“Um, Derek?” Isaac asks, holding up a new key ring filled with various and labeled keys.

“Actually,” Scott grins dopily. “I thought it would be safe for you to have a copy of everyone’s keys, you know, since you got locked out in that storm. I know it’s not much of a gift but-” Scott is cut off by Isaac hugging him. Scott smiles widely and hugs him back. When their bro-fest is over, Lydia says it’s Jackson’s turn. He holds up a “Douche Dorm Kit”.

“Stilinski.” Jackson glares at Stiles good naturedly.

“While I’d love to take credit for that, sadly, I can’t.” Derek seems to be grinning triumphantly to himself and everyone takes notice.

“I thought it’d be useful for college.” He says. Everyone laughs so hard it hurts. Lydia then announces it’s her turn. She purses her lips as she considers her gift, a simple necklace with three hearts, two inside the large one and the smallest one inside the medium sized one. Stiles notices Isaac biting his lip and covers his hand with Stiles’ own.

“I don’t know. Erica?” Lydia guesses.

“Um,” Isaac flushes and Lydia smiles that soft smile of hers reserved for pack.

“I love it, Isaac.” She says. Isaac smiles happily.

“It’s so you know we’ll all be in your heart, and you in ours.” He says. Lydia blows him and kiss and puts on the necklace right then (she doesn’t take it off the whole night).

“Scott’s turn.” She says, playing with the necklace between her fingers.

“I’m going with Boyd, since he was the one that walked in on me and Allison last week.” Scott says, holding up his sign that says “Sorry, you’re being sexiled. Come back later.”

“I thought it would be useful with college dorm rooms.” Boyd grins, Erica laughing under his arm. Scott grins back.

“Stiles’ turn.” Lydia says.

“I’m going with Erica, and totally not just because you’re one of the two last left and I gave the other gift.” Stiles says, laughing. “Batman is awesome. And I love the keychain.” The first two parts of the gift are a Batman mug and an apron with Batman’s body on it, but the keychain is in the shape of the Bat Signal with the words “You are my hero” on it. Erica and he exchange smiles.

“I guess that leaves me.” Derek says. It seems he was so consumed with watching the pack open their presents that he didn’t open his. Slowly, he opens it (Stiles _knew_ he was one of those people that tried to save the paper) and smiles softly. “Gag gifts?”

“Yeah, I know I went overboard.” Stiles laughs as Derek pulls out a packet of green Tic-Tacs labeled “Grinch poop”, a “Stress Reliever” bag with bubble wrap in it, and a toilet paper roll that says “I ran out of coal- From Santa”. Then Derek frowns. “You stole my laptop and gave it back to me?” Derek asks, picking up the laptop from the box.

“I installed Skype on it and friended all of the pack. It’s so that no matter where we go to college you can still see us.” Stiles says, grinning proudly. Derek smiles at the laptop, but Stiles can tell it’s really for him. Derek frowns once again though when he looks in the box and sees a scrapbook. Stiles bites his lip. “You might want to look at that alone.”

“What is it?” Derek picks it up and on the front is a picture of the Hale family, grinning at the camera. Derek gasps softly and touches the pages tenderly. Everyone tries to give Derek his space by cleaning up. Stiles helps. He ends up in the kitchen, stacking up the cupcake boxes. Erica comes over to help, which brings Isaac and Boyd into the room. She runs her fingers through Stiles’ long hair and smiles softly.

“Do you love him?” She asks. Stiles’ hands freeze on the cupcake container but relax quickly. He shakes his head.

“No."

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles raises his arm slowly and knocks on the loft door. Derek opens it.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, taking a deep breath through his nose. “And why do you smell like death?” Stiles glares at him and pushes his way into the loft, his suitcase trailing behind him.

“I’m sick,” He sneezes, his body proving it for him. “My dad can’t get sick, he has to get blood work done this week and he can’t if he’s sick. I’m staying here until I’m better.”

“Al…right?” Derek frowns, closing the door behind him.

“Don’t worry; I’m not going to make you take care of me or anything. I’m just going to veg out on your couch until I get healthy or die. Dying sounds good right-” _Sneeze!_ “-now.” Stiles flops onto the couch, grabs the throw blanket, and burritos himself. “Do you have Netflix?”

“No.”

“Eh, I’ll just hook it up to mine.” Stiles starts fiddling with the remote and soon, the red homepage is coming up on the screen. Derek sits down, wary of Stiles’ feet, and frowns at his TV.

“How does it work?” He asks.

“It’s filled with free movies and shows and you can watch them right away. Here, I’ve been watching old Saturday Night Lives.” Stiles clicks onto the show and they start watching silently, their bursts of laughing breaking it intermediately. Throughout the course of three episodes, Stiles decides he’s hot, then cold, then hot, then cold, and then hot again. Each time he switches, the hoodie he’s wearing comes on or off. At the moment, it’s off. He stands up and stretches.

“Where’re you going?” Derek asks, eyes on the screen where Bill Hader is pretending to be a gay club-enthusiast (Stephon).

“Making myself some chicken noodle soup.” Stiles says, pulling his tank top self-consciously. Derek looks over and snorts at the pink wording on the [grey tank top](http://www.lookhuman.com/render/product/0052/0052083446202885/2408atg-w800h800z1-32797-funny-way-to-say-netflix.jpg) that reads “Boyfriend? That’s a funny way to say Netflix”.

“Really.” Derek raises his judging eyebrows in question. Stiles sticks his tongue out at him.

“Don’t question my fashion choices, I already have a Lydia.” He pauses. “And I have another one that says “Books are better than boys”.” Stiles walks off, deciding he’s cold again before he does, and grabbing a blanket to drag with him. He hears another pair of feet padding behind him so he assumes Derek’s following.

“Boyfriend?” Stiles flushes but doesn’t turn around.

“I thought you knew?” Stiles asks, grabbing his ingredients.

“I knew you were exploring, but I didn’t know you had decided.” Derek says. He sounds weird, like speaking these words are hurting him physically.

“I like guys. Is that weird for you?” Stiles asks, suddenly extremely worried. What if Derek is homophobic?

“Of course not. I was just… clarifying.” Derek walks out of the kitchen and Stiles sighs to himself. After finishing the soup, eating it, and becoming very bored (Derek’s doing something upstairs and asked Stiles to wait before starting the next episode) Stiles starts looking around. He stumbles upon the scrapbook he made Derek for Christmas and finds the pages worn, as if they’ve been used a lot. Stiles grabs it and returns to the couch, looking through it.

Talia is breathtakingly beautiful. Strong, powerful, and poised, she stands with confidence and a warmness in her face that makes you smiles. Laura looks just like her mother, a little less focused, maybe, and grinning with less elegance, but she would’ve learned that eventually. Peter is there, and that scares him a little. Seeing Peter so normal and non-psychotic. He has his arm around a woman and his hand on a little girl’s shoulder. Stiles’ heart clenches for Peter, for losing his wife and daughter that way. Stiles sees Derek, smiling wide and unguarded. It makes him flinch a little because Stiles had always assumed Derek was always grumpy, but maybe he wasn’t back then.

His [father](http://www.celebdirtylaundry.com/wp-content/uploads/Joe-Vanity-Fair-Main.jpg), though, is, too but it bluntly, hot like fire ( _Sorry!_ ). You can see his abs through his shirt, he’s got a scruffy beard, not unlike the one Derek wears now, and a kind face. His eyes are crinkled at the corner, showing years of smiling and laughing in his past. And the color of his eyes is intriguing. Blue, but hazel and green too, all mixing together to create a color that could keep you busy for days. Then Stiles realizes, those are Derek’s eyes.

Derek has his father’s eyes.

Stiles almost laughs because it’s so weird to think of Derek looking like anyone else but Derek, but as Stiles looks closer he sees it. His mother’s thick, dark hair is almost exactly the same as Derek’s. His father’s jawline is the same one that tenses every time Stiles makes a dog joke. Those bunny teeth (Though Derek refuses to admit that that’s what they are) are in Talia’s smile, though not as prominent. Derek is from a family.

He can imagine the Hale kids going to school and blushing when the teachers asked “Is Laura you’re older sister?” or “Oh, I just saw Talia in the grocery store”. People knowing him before they knew his name because he looked so much like his parents. Derek trying so hard to be his own person and not be defined by his family. Stiles’ heart _hurts_ as he imagines it, so he puts away the scrapbook away and re-burritos himself on the couch.

“Hey, let’s go.” Derek plops down next to Stiles’ feet, moving them and putting them in Derek’s lap. Stiles presses play, and while Derek watches, Stiles counts the colors in his eyes. He loses count, just like he loses himself. He snaps himself out of it, repeating _You don’t love him_ over and over again in his mind.

Somehow, it turns into _You **can’t** love him._

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles bursts into the loft, a large bag in one arm, the other one holding a banana.

“Derek, catch,” Stiles tosses the banana to Derek, who catches it skillfully. He turns it so the writing is facing him and his face goes blank. Stiles grins. “You like it?”

“What’s up?” Cora comes down the stairs.

“I didn’t know Cora was here!” Stiles waves. “Show her the banana.” Stiles walks into the kitchen. Cora grabs the banana from Derek’s hands and laughs loudly.

“‘You make me bananas’?” She calls.

“Clever, huh?” Stiles starts taking out his supplies.

“What are you making?” Cora walks into the kitchen, Derek following behind her.

“[Cookies](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-44xRrcAdH8s/URULOTT4xiI/AAAAAAAACu0/tJRvKSHvURw/s640/4339903118_a0664f0ff5.jpg). And a special thing too, for Derek. But it’s only because I found the idea online and it suits him perfectly.” Stiles puts some things in the fridge.

“Ooh, can I help with it?” Cora steps up, grinning.

“If you’d like. Just follow what I say exactly.” Together, they crank out enough cookies for the entire pack. Each one looks like a Sweetheart Candy with a different saying on it. For some of them, Stiles went traditional, and then others he made up his own. “Here’s your cookie, Sourwolf.” Derek takes the green cookie with white icing writing and smiles a small smile at the nickname printed on it. “I’ll be done with your surprise later. I promise.” Stiles returns to the kitchen.

“Do you do this kind of thing a lot?” Cora asks, finishing up Jackson’s cookie that says “ ~~Douche~~ ” on it. Stiles grins and holds up Isaac’s; Puppy Love.

“Yeah, all of the time.” Then he gestures to the cookie. “He ask you out yet?”

“Yeah,” Cora smiles softly. “He got all nervous. It was adorable.”

“Be nice to him. He-he really likes you and he doesn’t deserve to be hurt again.” Stiles says. Cora nods, starting Lydia’s which is supposed to say I Love Your Huge… Brain.

“I will. And you be nice to Derek. I know he seems grumpy, but he’s soft on the inside. Like your jelly donuts.” Cora says.

“I’m always nice to Derek.”

“No, you’re not.” Cora glances at him. “But sometimes he needs someone to tell him to get his shit together.”

“I’m not going to be here for much longer.” Stiles says. He picks up an icing bag and starts Boyd’s All Star. “Maybe you should move back for a while.”

“I was thinking about it.” Cora nods. “But aren’t you going to school on the West Coast? You’ll be here all the time.”

“I actually applied for UMUC. I’m hoping to go there.” Stiles says.

“Maryland?!”

“Shh!” Stiles glances towards the living room, where Derek is munching on his cookie and watching SNL. “They don’t know yet.”

“Stiles, you can’t go to school in Maryland. We’ll never see you.” Cora growls at her cookie.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t take it out on the pastry.” Stiles saves the cookie from a crumbling death and starts Erica’s Catwoman. “I’ll be in the heart of D.C. learning from the top professors of criminal justice. It’s paradise.”

“But what if you forget about us?” Cora says, looking at him like a sad puppy. It makes him laugh a little, thinking of her and Isaac together; actual puppy love.

“I could never forget you guys.” Stiles says. “You’re my family.” Cora doesn’t reply, just smiles softly at the cookie for Scott that says “I Love You Bro”. It’s from Stiles, after all. It hits Stiles at that moment how beautiful Cora is. Even like this, covered in flour, hands sticky from icing, and a concentrated grimace on her face, she’s the picture of beauty. Stiles reaches out a tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” She glances at him. “I love you too.”

“Good,” He kisses her cheek. “Now, out of the kitchen. I’m making Derek’s surprise.” Cora giggles and leaves, so Stiles gets to it. About a half hour, three throw away mistakes, and a messy kitchen later, Stiles brings out two plates. He hands one to Derek, who laughs, _actually laughs_!

“Really?” Derek holds up the ladybug made out of a [strawberry](http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4081/5431452303_3bbda63f56.jpg) that says “Love Stinks!”. Stiles holds up his [strawberry](http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4081/5431452303_3bbda63f56.jpg) that says “I Love You!”.

“They match.” Derek smiles brightly at him as Stiles sits down next to him. Derek’s face turns into something resembling a pout.

“I can’t eat it, it looks so perfect.” Derek says. Cora snaps her fingers.

“Give me your phone.” Derek does what she says quickly and Cora takes a picture of the ladybug. “Okay, now eat it.” They eat everything and Cora agrees to help Stiles with the clean-up while Derek takes a shower. “You love Derek, don’t you?” She asks as she dries the dishes Stiles hands her.

Stiles glances at Cora before looking back at the dish he’s washing.

“Of course not.”

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles frowns at the radio.

“Why are we listening to Ariana Grande?” He asks. Derek shrugs and keeps his eyes on the road. Stiles groans. “Fine, I’ll put in “Stiles’ and Derek’s Fun Mix of Fun”.” Stiles grabs his backpack.

“That’s a little repetitive, don’t you think?” Derek asks. Stiles dismisses him with a wave of his hand, pulling out a CD with the other. Stiles opens the case and shoves the disk into the player, pressing the play button afterwards.

“These are your favorite songs and some others just to get you to smile.” Stiles says.

“Others?” Derek side glances at him.

“You know, “Happy” by Pharrell, or “Rude” by MAGIC!. Even One Direction’s “What Makes You Beautiful”. Songs that will make you happy despite your resentment towards them.” Stiles says. The first song is a Derek Favorite; Dream On by Aerosmith. Derek smiles as they listen to it.

“Do you understand what we’re doing?” Derek asks.

“Yep, we’re going to talk to an old witch friend of the Hale pack who needs our help.” Stiles hums along to the tune of “Call Me Maybe”. “I don’t understand why I’m coming. Shouldn’t someone higher up in the pack hierarchy be joining you?”

“How do you think our hierarchy works exactly?” Derek asks, an amused smile on his face.

“Well, there’s you, The Alpha. Then, next I’d say Boyd would be your second in command. Below him are the Betas, Lydia, and Allison. All in one group.” Stiles grins as “22” by Taylor Swift comes on.

“Where do you stand?” Derek asks.

“I figure that I’m the guy that follows you around, kissing your boo-boos and baking you sweets.” Stiles shrugs, fiddling with the sound system.

“That’s not true. You’re more than that.” Derek says. “You’re the caretaker of this pack. You keep us human when our wolves try to take over. You help us unite as a pack with all of your ideas for pack nights. You’re important to us, to m-” Derek pauses. “We couldn’t survive without you.”

“You-you mean that?” Stiles looks over at him. Derek nods once, but doesn’t supply any verbal confirmation. They listen to a few more songs; “Wonderwall”, “Good in Goodbye”, and “Use Somebody”.

“So, you know my favorite songs?” Derek asks. Stiles flushes and glances out the window.

“You’ve mentioned them a few times.” Stiles mumbles. Derek laughs, a sound that Stiles is learning to familiarize himself with. He’s enjoying it.

“Here we are,” Derek pulls into a driveway of a shack in the middle of the woods. “Remember, be kind to her. She’s having some issues in her coven.”

“Like, one-of-the-witches-stole-another-one’s-boyfriend kind of issues, or one-of-them-is-going-on-an-evil-rampage-that-involves-dark-magic issues?” Stiles asks as he gets out of the car, Derek doing the same.

“I’m hoping neither.” Derek says, smiling to himself as they walk to the cabin.

“Derek!” An older woman in a shawl with large round glasses on his nose comes out of the cabin. “Look at you, grown up so well!” She pinches his cheeks and Stiles fights (and loses) to hold in his laughter. The witch’s head snaps towards him. “Oh! And look how well you’ve done for yourself!” She walks over, hugging Stiles. “Such a cute mate. And funny, too. I’m feeling many good traits.”

“Um, mate?” Stiles looks at Derek over the witch’s shoulder. She pulls back.

“Oh.” She turns to Derek and smiles sadly at him. “Never mind, then,” She says, speaking to Stiles. “Come in, come in, we need to talk.” They follow her inside, Stiles mouthing the word “mate” at Derek who shakes his head. They enter the cottage and sit down at a small, homemade dining table with frilly white place mats.

“So, you said that you’ve been having problems with a member of your coven?” Derek asks. The witch moves around the kitchen, putting a kettle on.

“Yes, Miranda. She’s a newly taught witch; I took her under my wing and taught her the ways. But she’s been dating a bad seed, a warlock with the Marlon coven.” The witch turns around, her face showing alarm. “Oh my! I forgot to introduce myself!” She sits down at the table and offers Stiles’ her hand. He shakes it. “I’m Celeste Thomas, head of the Thomas coven.”

“Stiles Stilinski, hyperactive high school student.” Stiles says. Celeste glances at Derek like something just made sense.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you weren’t of age.” Celeste says.

“Really? Wow, people are always saying I look very young.” Stiles says, grinning at Derek as if he just won something.

“Anyway, Miranda’s dating Owen Marlon from the coven. He’s a sweet boy, but as I said, bad seed.” She gets up to pour the tea from the now-whistling kettle. “By bad seed I mean he came from a bad tree. Michael Marlon is a warlock that dabbles in the darks.”

“So what would you need us to do?” Stiles asks. Celeste sets down the cups and Stiles takes a sip. “Mm, this is good. What brew is it?”

“Oh, an old coven trick. It heals all wounds, but I always thought it tasted much better than others.” Celeste says, smiling warmly. “But I thought, since your past stakeouts have gone so well, you could watch the Marlon coven and make sure that Miranda is safe.”

“That seems reasonable.” Derek nods. “And in return, the Thomas coven will agree to continue our pact that states we will help each other in time of need?”

“Of course. The Hale pack is strong and powerful once again. I’ve been anticipating this since Peter regained motility.” Celeste says.

“You are aware that many of the pack, well, the entire pack, is made up of high school students that will be spreading across California for college?” Derek asks.

“I’m aware, yes. But it’s just California?” Celeste frowns, looking at Stiles. “You haven’t told anyone?”

“I told Cora.” Stiles looks at his fingers. He looks up suddenly. “But that won’t impact the pack, will it?”

“No, sweetie.” She smiles. “I don’t mind. But you know they will. It will hurt them more than you think to be so far from you.”

“They’ll deal with it.” Stiles says. “They’ll be fine.”

“You’re more important than you think.” Then she looks back to Derek. “I agree to the past contract, as long as you fulfill your end of the deal.”

“Uh, thank you, Celeste. We’ll be in touch.” Derek stands up. She reaches out and touches his cheek with her pointer and middle fingers.

“You should tell him. His reaction would surprise you.” She says. Derek looks her straight in the eye.

“He’s too young. I can’t do that to him.” He says. Celeste sighs and nods, pulling back her fingers.

“Such a good heart. All things will be as they should in the end. Goodbye, Derek, Stiles,” She leaves the room and disappears out back. Stiles and Derek leave and the first half of their trip back is silent save for the music still playing.

“What did she m-” They start at the same time.

“You first.” Stiles says. He thrums his fingers against the car door as he tries to contain his nerves.

“What did she mean about you being far away?” Derek asks. “And don’t do that thing where you half-lie so even a werewolf can’t tell.”

“I’m going to college in D.C. The school has the best criminology department in the country.” Stiles says. Derek stays quiet, the only change being that his knuckles turn white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel.

“You’re moving to the East Coast.” Derek’s voice is scarily similar to the one Stiles remembers from those first days with Peter running around like a crazed Alpha.

“I-I’ll be home during every break, I’ll Skype you and the pack every day, I-please Derek. Don’t be mad at me.” Stiles looks over at him to be shocked. Derek’s eyes seem to be holding back tears.

“I’m not mad at you, Stiles. This is an amazing opportunity for you. I just wish you could’ve trusted me-us enough to tell me-us.” He shuts his eyes tightly for a second before realizing he's still driving and opens them again.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just didn’t want to upset you. I know I don’t help all that much with the physical aspect of things, but I knew you would miss me. I didn’t want you all to miss me before I was even gone.” Stiles slouches back in the seat.

“When do you leave?”

“Not until the last two weeks of August. It’s a long time away, Derek. I’m not abandoning you. I’ll be back all of the time.” Stiles sits up and turns towards Derek. “I am _not_ leaving you. I need you to understand that.”

“I understand.” Derek nods. “I do.”

“Good,” Stiles sits back again, places his hand over Derek’s on the seat rest, and remains quiet for the rest of the ride. Stiles forgets all about what he was going to ask Derek.

 

*~*~*

 

“So, you’re moving to D.C. for the next four years?” Isaac asks.

“I’m going to college in Maryland, yes. But I’ll visit all of the time and Skype and talk to you all every single day.” Stiles says. When no one says anything, Derek speaks up.

“I thought that maybe this would be a good time to discuss where everyone is going for college, and what for.” Derek says. “We’ll need to all know where everyone is all the time, just in case.” Everyone is still quiet, processing this new information. Lydia speaks up first.

“I will be attending Berkeley for mathematics. It has one of the best programs in the country.” She sniffs, sounding suspiciously like she’s holding back tears. “I will be forty five minutes away from Beacon Hills.”

“Isaac and I will also be attending Berkeley.” Allison says, wiping at her eyes. Scott squeezes her shoulder comfortingly. “Business for me and literature and English for Isaac.” Isaac seems too upset to speak. Stiles’ heart clenches.

“Okay. Next, Boyd?” Derek says, writing it down before looking up. Boyd seems just as unexpressive as always, maybe even a little too much so.

“I’m, uh, going to Stanford for mechanical engineering.” Boyd says.

“Wow! Boyd, that’s awesome.” Stiles grins over at him, proud like a parent. Boyd manages a smile back.

“I’ll be going to U of C Los Angeles. I’m majoring in art. I want to become a tattoo artist.” Erica says. She’s playing with her hair and Stiles, knowing her as he does, knows she’s upset. He wants to hug everyone in the pack and never let them go. Maybe a puppy pile after this.

“I’m going to Stanford for law. I turned down Yale, which is the top in the country, to stay closer to home.” Jackson says with a pointed look towards Stiles. Stiles shakes it off, knowing that when Jackson feels threatened in any way he gets defensive and mean.

“I’m going to college too. I’ve decided I want to teach. I’m getting my degree at Stanford.” Cora says, sitting normally. She’s had longer to process than the others.

“Cora, that’s amazing.” Stiles says. Cora smiles over at him, nodding.

“Yeah, I’m excited.”

“That leaves… Scott.” Derek looks to Scott who’s just gaping at Stiles.

“You’re leaving us.” He says.

“I’m not leaving you. I’m leaving the state. We are a family. Families persevere no matter where they are. I love each and every one of you and just because I will live on the other side of the country doesn’t mean that I’m leaving this family. I will be back in four years with a degree in criminology and I will work at the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department. I promise you that we will still be a family.” Stiles says.

“Aw!” And a puppy pile ensues. Scott does reveal that he is going to the University of California in Davis to become a vet eventually, and they spend the rest of the day watching TV and curled up together on the couch. At some point, Stiles gets too restless and gets up. Scott follows him to the bathroom where Stiles splashes cold water on his face.

“You’re going to miss us, right?” Scott asks.

“Of course, Scotty.” Stiles dries his face. “I’ll never go a minute without thinking of you all.”

“And Derek?” Stiles’ heart rate picks up.

“What about Derek?” Stiles asks. Scott couldn’t have figured it out. He’s Scott, the one that doesn’t see these things.

“Are you in love with Derek?” Scott asks. Stiles slumps back against the bathroom wall and covers his face with his hands.

“No, Scott. I don’t love him.”

 

*~*~*

 

Derek pulls up outside the Stilinski house. The front door opens and Stiles runs out, getting in the car.

“I brought some things along.” Stiles says, opening his backpack. First, he pulls out a mixtape eloquently titled “Stiles and Derek’s Stakeout Mix of Awesomeness”. “Put this in. You may pretend to like the silence, but it skeeves you out just as much as it does for me.” Derek does as he asks. “Here, I brought some fruit and pretzels because you always get hungry on stakeouts. And finally, the notepads, pens, and binoculars that you claim you don’t need because “you’re a werewolf and remember everything”.”

“You remember all of these things about me?” Derek asks, pulling out from in front of the house.

“Course, dude.” Stiles grins at him before returning to his bag. It surprises Stiles that Derek hadn’t realized sooner that Stiles memorized everything about him. He has since forever ago.

“We’re going to spy on the Marlon coven. We have information that they are conducting a ritual in the preserve. Remember, if-”

“If something dangerous is going on, return to the car and call the rest of the pack. I know, Derek, you’ve said it enough times. I’m the squishy human, I can’t fight.” Stiles sighs, still searching his bag.

“That’s not it and you know it.” Derek says, seemingly upset.

“No, I don’t know it. What is it then?” Stiles asks. _Seriously, where is it?_

“You don’t heal, Stiles. If you got hurt there’s no guarantee you would be ok. I will not risk your life.” Derek turns onto a road that leads to the preserve.

“Um, wow. Thank you, Derek.” They stay quiet after that, only Stiles’ rustling in his bag. His grin victoriously as he pulls out a pair of glasses.

“You need glasses?” Derek asks.

“No, not really. These are fake. When I was younger, people thought I didn’t focus because I couldn’t see, so they gave me glasses. I did focus more afterwards; I guess it was like a placebo. I thought it might help today.” Stiles says, slipping them on. Derek nods and keeps quiet. They’re five minutes away when Derek speaks up again.

“I’m thinking of rebuilding the Hale house.” Derek says quietly.

“I think that would be really good for you, Derek. Give you something to focus on. And I’m sure the pack would love it.” Stiles says. “Any particular reason?”

“Pack, mostly. If I start now, it will be done by the time you all get back from college.” Derek turns onto an even more rustic road. “My family lived together in the house. I thought I could rebuild the main house and build some new cottages for the rest of the pack to live.”

“Wow, Derek. You’ve really thought about this.” Stiles smiles over at him, proud of the Alpha.

“I want that kind of family again. The pack is my new family. I just hope they’ll say yes.” Derek parks in a small clearing.

“They’ll say yes. They love you just as much as you love them, Derek. Trust me.” Stiles gets out of the car, as does Derek. They trek through the woods until they come across a group of men and women chanting. Stiles cranes his neck to see what they’re doing and holds back a gasp in shock. Derek holds a finger to his mouth and gestures to go back to the car. Stiles shakes his head and pulls out his phone, sending a mass text to the pack to get to the preserve quickly. Stiles looks back up to see Owen Marlon in the center of the circle, writhing in pain. “Yo, witch bitches!”

“Stiles!” All of the chanting witches and warlocks turn, interrupting their enchantment and thus ending Owen Marlon’s pain. Suddenly, they start casting spells at them furiously. Derek roars and attacks the first one in range. The pack shows up quickly and takes them down.

Stiles is grinning in the background when a rogue spell hits him in the face and he goes down.

He wakes up later staring at a metal ceiling. His head is throbbing and he has a stinging pain under his left eye, but otherwise, he feels relatively unharmed. He sits up, slowly, as not to hurt his head, and looks around to see he’s in Deaton’s back room, on a table. It’s cold, so he moves and slides his feet onto the floor. He stumbles over to a mirror to see a bandage under his left eye and a bump on the back of his head. If he had to guess, he’d say his glasses broke with the force of the spell and cut his cheek and then he fell back and hit his head.

“Stiles!” Scott comes running in the room. Stiles goes for a grin.

“Hey Scotty.” Scott runs over and inspects his friend.

“Thank God, Deaton said you’d be fine.” Scott sighs and slumps back against the counter. “Derek was worried sick. Why would you do something like that without back up?”

“They were torturing Owen Marlon. I couldn’t let that happen.” Stiles says. “What happened to him?”

“He’s fine. With Celeste now. She’s taking him in. They were using his youthful energy to power the coven. They’ve been doing it for months, according to Celeste. They’ve all been restrained in a witch proof prison for the torture and assault of a minor.” Scott says, his face contorted in concentration so he can remember it all.

“Good, good, that’s good. Anyway, I’ve gotta head home now. Need to sleep in my own bed.” Stiles wanders around getting his things.

“Derek’s shift is just about to start, he can take you home.” Scott says.

“Shift?”

“Well, he’s been here all afternoon and night, but I told him about an hour ago to get home and shower, and eat. He was covered in blood.” Scott says. Stiles shutters and nods.

“Sure, thanks Scotty.” Stiles bro hugs Scott before leaving the room. Scott leaves quickly and Deaton explains everything to Stiles.

“You will need to be woken up every two hours to make sure you are ok and your concussion isn’t causing any damage.” Deaton finishes his speech.

“I’ll set a timer on my phone.” Stiles says, standing up as the door opens and Derek enters.

“It would be better if someone woke you up and asked you questions.” Deaton says warily. “Maybe your father?”

“He’s not home. He’s working the late shift so Frankie can go to his daughter’s wedding.” Stiles says, waving goodbye to Deaton. Derek is silent as they walk to the car, but the second they get inside Derek starts ranting.

“What were you thinking?! You could’ve been _killed_ Stiles!” Derek keeps going on for a few minutes until Stiles covers Derek’s hand with his own.

“I’m ok, Derek. I did it to protect Owen Marlon. We’re all fine.” Stiles says. Derek sighs, pulling up in front of the Stilinski House.

“You can’t do that, Stiles. You had us all worried to death.” Derek says.

“I’m sorry. Really.” Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand once before leaving the car and entering his house. He falls asleep only to be awoken two hours later by the former-Sourwolf.

“What’s your name?” He asks.

“Not gettin’ that outta me.” Stiles mumbles. “But you can call me Stiles.” Derek chuckles softly.

“Where are you?”

“In my room, tryin’ to sleep.” Stiles turns over, grumbling about Alphas who don’t let him sleep.

“One more question, what’s your favorite color?” Derek asks. Stiles opens one eye and looks at Derek.

“Blue’s pretty.” Stiles says, closing his eye. “You’re eyes are blue.” If Stiles had been awake any longer, he would’ve seen the Alpha flush.

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles wakes up on Saturday, May 17th and grins. Today is going to be a great day. He quickly changes out of his boxers, into new ones, a pair of sweatpants with a Batman sign over the crotch, and a ratty old _Avengers_ t-shirt that’s soft and nubby after years of washing it. He collects his supplies from the kitchen and gifts from the guest room before setting off in his jeep to the loft. He’s already told everyone to stay away for the day. Derek needs this.

Truth be told, Stiles wishes Cora could be here. But right now she’s halfway through a two week trek through the Amazon rainforest with her friends from South America. She wanted to say goodbye before she left for college and that turned into the trip. Stiles was happy for her, of course, but now she couldn’t spend the day with Derek. So, Stiles decided he’d do it.

He bursts into the loft before Derek wakes up. Despite the werewolf hearing, Stiles is 100% sure he won’t be waking up anytime soon. Stiles might have possibly slipped a tiny, _miniscule_ amount of wolfsbane into his dinner last night. Derek should be out for another hour. Stiles knows it was a little unethical, but completely necessary.

Stiles heads to the kitchen and gets started on the pancakes. Deaton has a copy of the Hale’s cookbook on file and Stiles found a page with a star on it that read “Derek’s Favorite Breakfast”. It was a recipe for buttermilk pancakes and strawberry sauce. He starts the sauce then the batter before skimming through the pages to find another recipe. He grins at a page so worn the words are fading. Stiles starts the homemade cinnamon buns before finishing the pancakes. He sets up the gifts and movies before moving back to the kitchen. Just as he finishes the buns, a sleeping werewolf comes stumbling out of the bedroom.

“Waz happenin’?” Derek mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. Stiles almost melts, like Wizard-of-Oz- _I’m-Melting!_ melts.

“Go put these on and come back.” Stiles says, thrusting a pair of [sweatpants](http://www.incrediblethings.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/squirrel-sweat-pants-nuts-1.jpg) at him. Derek nods, frowning a little, and leaves to change. He comes back, apparently unaware that he’s wearing a pair of pants with a squirrel on it that is reaching for his crotch. Stiles hands him a mug of black coffee, a [new mug](https://img1.etsystatic.com/035/0/8114391/il_340x270.564271773_28fg.jpg), that says “Don’t go bacon my heart” with a piece of bacon under it. Stiles has a matching one that says “I couldn’t if I fried” in his hands.

“Whaz thiz for?” Derek asks before taking a sip of his coffee. “Something special?”

“Just cause.” Stiles shrugs. He turns around and sets a plate down in front of Derek and Derek’s smile widens.

“I love these.” He says. Stiles smiles to himself as he gets his own plate.

“I know.” Stiles sits down across from him and tucks into his own food.

“Wait, how did I not notice you coming in?” Derek asks; suddenly awake with half a cup of coffee in his stomach.

“Oh, uh, I maybe, possibly, might have… slipped you some wolfsbane last night.” At Derek’s angry look he keeps going. “I needed to get in here without you knowing! Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m pretty!” Derek sighs and shakes his head, taking another bite of his food.

“You’re weird.” He mumbles around a strawberry. Stiles grins at his plate but doesn’t reply. They’re quiet until Derek finishes his plate. Derek sniffs the air and frowns. “Why do I smell cinnamon buns?”

“Oh, I forgot.” Stiles takes them out of the oven where they were being kept warm. “I made cinnamon buns.” Derek is suddenly right behind him, taking deep breaths. “Um, hello,”

“Sorry,” Derek backs up and shakes his head. “It just smells good.”

“It’s my cookin’, good lookin’.” Stiles winks and laughs at his own joke. He puts a bun on the plate for Derek and then his own. “Come on, we’re watching Pixar movies.”

“Why?”

“Because I say so.” They sit through all three of the _Toy Story_ movies, _Up_ , and even _Ratatouille_. After the end of  _Finding_ _Nemo_ Stiles squirms in his seat.

“Are you ok?” Derek asks, glancing at Stiles.

“Every year on my mom’s birthday, she’d make us watch a Pixar movie of her choice. Now, every year I have a Pixar marathon.” Stiles says.

“My dad used to make those pancakes on my birthday every year. He made the cinnamon buns for mornings after the full moon.” Derek says. Stiles leans his head on Derek’s shoulder and they remain that way all the way through Monsters Inc.

“Alright, time for lunch.” Stiles stands up and stretches.

“Isn’t the pack going to come over today?” Derek asks, following him into the kitchen.

“I told them to stay away. I hope you don’t mind.” Stiles starts getting out his ingredients for his extra special grilled cheese sandwich. It was the first thing he made for dinner after his mom passed, and it somehow became a tradition between him and his dad to have them Tuesday nights.

“What are you making?” Derek asks, sitting at the counter.

“Grilled cheese sandwiches.” Stiles says, turning on the stove top. “But not your every day, normal grilled cheese sandwich. This here is a bacon, egg, and maple grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Oh, is it now?” Derek asks, eyebrows up and smile on his face.

“Uh-huh. Now sit back and let me make you drool. I promise you’ll be ruined for all other grilled cheese sandwiches for the rest of your life.” Stiles starts on the food while Derek talks. The first time this happened, Stiles was surprised at how their roles had switched. Stiles is always quiet when he cooks, and apparently, Derek missed the noise. So, to fix it, he fills the noise with his own voice.

Derek forgets who he is at these times. He goes on about his family, the pack, things he wouldn’t normally say. Derek thinks mostly that he’s just talking to himself, but Stiles hangs onto every word. He likes this Derek, the talkative and easy going Derek. Maybe he likes it because he knows he’s the only one who sees this Derek.

At the moment, Derek is talking about Isaac, whom he’s worried about. He knows Isaac’s going to school with Lydia and Allison, and that he’ll be fine with them. But Isaac’s not very social and it’s hard for him to make friends. Derek’s worried that Isaac will go back into his shell, and after two and a half long years trying to get him to open up, that would crush Derek. Sometimes Stiles mumbles advice like “He’ll have the girls” or “I’m sure he’ll join a writing club and make a bunch of hipster friends”. Derek seems to relax a little after he says something like this, but not much.

“Alright, prepare your taste buds for the ride of their life.” Stiles says. He sets the plate down in front of Derek and takes a seat next to him. Stiles tries to ignore their brushing arms as they eat, but it’s hard. Especially since after Derek takes his first bite, he moans. Like full on porno, I’m-buried-in-someone’s-ass moan. Little Stiles valiantly tries to get up, but the oncoming thoughts of vaginas and boobs end his fight.

“Oh my god, Stiles, this is delicious.” Derek says. “Where did you learn how to make this?”

“After having grilled cheese sandwiches for a week straight, I looked it up in the local library. Neither I nor my dad could take another night of it. But I learned how to cook other things after that, so it all turned out well.” Stiles says. Derek nods and doesn’t ask, he doesn’t need to, and that’s what Stiles loves about Derek. Derek understands without asking invasive questions or pushing too hard. He’s simple and easy and damn, Stiles is going to miss him.

“So what’s planned for the afternoon?” Derek asks. Stiles grins and pulls out some boxes from under the coffee table.

“Board games.” It’s a fight to the death. They keep score on the back of a Chinese Take-Out menu of who wins what. Derek wins _Scrabble_ , but Stiles schools him in _Monopoly_. Stiles was not sorry at all for beating Derek in _Sorry!_ , but Derek wasn’t remorseful either of his annihilation of Stiles in _Guess Who?_. Derek won _Candy Land_ and Stiles laughed for ages, but then Stiles won _The Game of Life_ and laughed even harder. Stiles beats Derek in _Connect Four_ but Derek’s steady hands win in _Operation_.

Finally, it’s down to the last game; _Twister_.

Stiles has a version where a voice calls out what you have to do, so they can play without a spinner. Currently, Stiles is upside down with his left hand and right foot both on red, right hand yellow, and left foot blue. Derek is partially over his with right hand red, left hand yellow, left foot yellow, and right foot green. It’s Derek’s turn and the voice calls out “Left foot yellow” and Derek groans.

“That’s impossible!” Despite his inevitable fail, Derek tries. He falls down on top of Stiles, holding himself up by his elbows. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, dude, I’m great! I won.” Stiles grins up at him.

“Don’t call me dude. And you didn’t win, you hit the ground first.” Derek says.

“Yeah, but only because you fell on me. You fell first.” Thus starts a fourteen minute long argument about who won and who lost. They finally agree on a tie just to be fair (But Derek totally lost). When the argument is over, they realize they’re still in the same position; Derek over Stiles, holding himself up by his elbows. Despite Derek holding himself up, they are pressed together from the waist down. Stiles blushes when he realizes he can _feel_ everything. “Um, uh, we’ve gotta, uh, call for take out.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Derek sits up and backs away, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “I’ll call.” He leaves the room. Stiles sighs and lets his head fall back against the rug. His life consists of werewolves, banshees, and nogitsunes, and this is the weirdest thing in his life. Derek calls and soon, they’re watching a _Saturday Night Live_ actually live whilst eating cold sesame noodles and dumplings.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” Stiles runs and grabs a cupcake from the kitchen he made yesterday. “Here you go,” Stiles hands him the [werewolf cupcake](http://s3.amazonaws.com/twduncan/recipe/567/hero-werewolf-cupcakes.jpg) and grins in triumph when Derek laughs. “Well, I thought it was suitable. And I’ve wanted to try this ever since I found the recipe during my last research session.” Derek takes a bite and compliments Stiles generously for his baking skills. He eventually shares the treat with Stiles because it’s actually larger than a normal cupcake. They end up falling asleep afterwards; watching late night re-runs of _Friends_ on Nick at Night. Just before they fall asleep, Derek mumbles something.

“Thank you, Stiles.” Stiles smiles to himself, eyes still closed.

“Happy Birthday, Derek."

 

*~*~*

 

“I bring sweets to cool off the good people of the Sheriff’s Department.” Stiles says, sweeping into the station dramatically. Jeanine smiles at him sweetly and thanks him as he hands her a napkin and a homemade melon pop.

“Oh darling, you are my savior.” She says.

“It’s too hot for spring. Enjoy your treat,” Stiles waves as he enters the desk area. He hands all of them out, minus four; one for him, his dad, Parrish, and Derek. He stops by his Parrish first, after popping his own into his mouth. “Hey Hot Stuff,” Stiles says, sitting down on Parrish’s desk. “Want something cold or hot? ‘Cause both are available.” Stiles gestures to himself and the ice pops.

“Stiles!” Parrish scream/whispers, looking around worriedly. “Your father is here.”

“So? Baby, don’t you still want me?” Stiles pouts dramatically, sucking on his ice pop sensually. Parrish flushes.

“We can’t do this anymore, Stiles. Your father found out.” At that, Stiles pulls the treat out with a _pop_ and frowns.

“Found out that we joke around about banging?” Stiles tilts his head to the side. Parrish flushes deeper.

“Someone told him that we talk like this a lot. He assumed we were attracted to each other, which isn’t exactly a lie, and asked me to stop.” Parrish says. Stiles frowns more and hands him an ice pop.

“But I like our banter.”

“Your father doesn’t.” Parrish says, licking the ice pop.

Stiles grins and fake-whispers “Put that tongue to work, baby,” and runs away before he can be scolded. He enters the Sheriff’s office to see his dad talking with Derek whilst looking at a board similar to the ones Stiles used to make. “Why did you scold Parrish for our banter?” Stiles asks. They both turn to look at him, Derek’s ears flushing pink.

“What?” His dad frowns at him.

“Parrish and I, we banter about sex all of the time and you told him to stop. Who told you anyway?” Stiles asks, sitting on his desk.

“I’d rather not have one of my deputies be so intimately acquainted with my son.” His dad says, accepting an ice pop. “And that’s confidential information.”

“I’m of age, you know, and it’s just banter. Sure we find each other attractive but it’s not like we’re ever going to have sex.” Stiles sucks briefly at his ice pop again. “And Derek and I are close. We’ve slept on the same couch numerous times. He’s a deputy, why doesn’t that count?”

“It’s different. Derek’s your Alpha.” His dad says, munching on his treat. “Why does it even matter?”

“Because it’s fun for me. Even if I know I’m never getting any, it’s fun for me to flirt with someone easily.” Stiles says.

“There have been complaints.” His father tries as a last attempt at winning the argument.

“From who?” Stiles asks.

“I’m, uh, gonna go.” Derek says awkwardly. Stiles shoots up.

“You! I can’t believe you, Derek. You _told my father_?!” Stiles glares at him. Derek gapes.

“I-I…”

“You don’t get this ice pop now. I can’t believe you. What was so bad about our banter?” Stiles shakes his head and purses his lips.

“Stiles, Derek was just telling me so I could make an informed decision on what to do.” The Sheriff says. Stiles scoffs, handing over the ice pop to Derek.

“No, he did it because he doesn’t like feeling like he’s not the hottest one in the room.” Stiles says.

“What?!” Derek seems appalled.

“What? You know you’re attractive. You just don’t like anyone thinking someone’s more handsome than you. But don’t worry, Der-Bear, you’re the prettiest Alpha around.” Stiles pops the treat back in his mouth, his eyebrows raised as if he’s saying “Do you care to contradict me?”.

“That-that’s not-you find me attractive?” Derek splutters. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“ _Everyone_ finds you attractive.” Stiles frowns. “Wait, have you really not realized?” Stiles laughs. “God, you’re dense.”

“Alright, alright, you need to head home, Stiles. I get that you’re open about these things but I don’t need to hear anymore.” The Sheriff says.

“Then get one of your deputies to drive me home. My jeep’s still in the shop.” Stiles hops off the desk. “What can you do, Pops? Is Parrish available?” Stiles grins cheekily.

“Derek, would you mind taking Stiles home?” The Sheriff asks, ignoring the obvious innuendo.

“Of course not. Come on,” Derek grabs his leather jacket and leaves the room. Stiles salutes his dad before following him out. Stiles sends a final wink towards Parrish, who flushes, before leaving and getting in the car right in front of the precinct. “Are you mad at me?” Derek asks when Stiles gets in the car.

“Not really. I just don’t understand why it would make you uncomfortable. But if it does, I’ll stop.” Stiles fiddles with the radio until One Direction’s new single comes on. Surprisingly, Erica got him into it and now he enjoys the boy band’s music. “And you really didn’t know that you were attractive?”

“I’m aware of what I look like, Stiles. I just didn’t know you were too.” It’s Stiles’ turn to blush. Miraculously, Stiles remains quiet for the rest of the ride.

 

*~*~*

 

“Dad,” Stiles bursts into his own home loudly. “Derek has to stay with us for the next four nights.” “

What? Why?” His dad asks.

“Ant infestation. Even werewolves can’t control ants.” Stiles says.

“What about Isaac?” His dad asks.

“Isaac’s staying with Scott, it’s easier for everyone.”

“Cora?”

“She’s actually getting her high school degree. She finished high school in Washington state so she has to go all the way up there for it.” Stiles says. “So, can Derek stay?”

“Sure, he can stay in the guest room.” He father returns to watching his baseball game. Stiles helps Derek brings his suitcases up to his room before taking a shower. He wraps a towel around his waist and returns to his room only to find Derek sitting on his bed.

“Jesus Christ, Derek, why are you in here?” Stiles grips his towel tighter, just in case. Derek’s ears pink as he notices Stiles attire, or lack of it.

“I just wanted to tell you I’ll be making dinner.” Derek gets up and rushes out of the room. Stiles sighs and shakes his head before getting dressed in some comfortable sweats and a hoodie, nothing under it. He pads downstairs in his [fuzzy wolf socks](http://www.pinterest.com/pin/520025088194589944/) to find his father sitting on the couch, cheering at the television. Stiles sits with him and watches the Mets beat the Red Soxs (Shut up, it could happen), comfortably happy.

“What did you make?” Stiles asks when Derek comes out with three plates of food.

“Lemon chicken, asparagus, and roasted potatoes.” Derek says.

“Mm, healthy and good. Go Der-Bear.” They enjoy dinner together before Stiles’ dad says he has to work on a case. Derek offers to help but the Sheriff tells him to relax. Trying to help, Stiles grabs a carton of Cookies-N-Cream ice cream, two spoons, and Derek, and pulls him upstairs. They chill on Stiles’ bed with the ice cream and watch episodes of Bones on Netflix, which is a fricken’ awesome show. Sweets is his bae, Booth is a wet dream, and Bones is perfect in every way.

“I gotta, I gotta sleep,” Derek mumbles as he leans into Stiles.

“Shh, just go to sleep here. I don’t mind.” Stiles says softly. Derek nods and closes his eyes. A few seconds later he’s snoring. Stiles chuckles softly to himself and turns on the close captions, putting the volume on mute. His dad knocks softly on his bedroom doorframe and Stiles looks up.

“Stiles, you know you can tell me anything, right?” He asks.

“Course pops.”

“So, uh, do you love him?” He dad asks, nodding towards the werewolf in his bed. Stiles turns to look at Derek, asleep, looking peaceful and content.

“No, Dad, I don’t.”

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles drives over to the loft and lets himself in. It’s ass o’clock in the morning, Stiles isn’t even awake enough yet to open both eyes, and his hair looks like two birds just had very rough sex in it. But Stiles couldn’t care less, which is the reason he trudged over here so early, dressed only in a hoodie and some threadbare basketball shorts. The hoodie is open at the moment, nothing underneath it, because it is hot as fuck down here. Derek doesn’t turn on the AC unless there is someone in the room to enjoy it.

Stiles is making bacon, egg, and cheese waffle sandwiches right now for breakfast. He needs enough for Derek, Isaac, himself, and Erica and Boyd, who usually stay here more often than not. Derek wakes up first, to the smell of food, and stumbles downstairs in just some sweats. His eyes are red and his face is blotchy and Stiles doesn’t need to ask to know why.

“Eat,” He says simply, putting the plate down in front of Derek with a glass of orange juice. Derek eats quietly, doesn’t even question why Stiles is here. Stiles starts on the others’ breakfasts while Derek eats. He doesn’t look up when Derek calls his name.

“Stiles?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you here?” Stiles turns around and sits at the counter, eating his own sandwich.

“I figured you’d want some breakfast.” Stiles says, shrugging. “I can make more if you’re still hungry.”

“No, I’m fine, it’s just…” Derek trails off, playing with the crumbs on his empty plate. “How did you know?”

“Scott’s celebrating his three years as a wolf in two days. I put the pieces together.” Stiles takes a bite of his own food, glancing up at Derek.

“Why’d you come over?”

“I knew you’d need someone. Thought it might as well be me.” Stiles finishes his sandwich and rinses his plate.

“Thanks.” Derek says, looking at his lap. Stiles nods but doesn’t respond. It hurts him to think that yesterday all Derek did was sit in bed, alone, and cry. No one deserves to cry alone. But then again, it’s Derek. Derek never lets anyone see him cry. It’s an unspoken rule. Derek thinks it shows weakness, but Stiles thinks it shows strength, to be able to open up to someone that.

“Did you ever tell her, about Kate?” Stiles asks. Derek nods.

“About three months before she came back here. She-she said it wasn’t my fault. No matter how many times I said it was, she told me it wasn’t. She was stubborn and smart. A lot like you. You would’ve liked her.” Derek says. Stiles turns around.

“I bet I would’ve.” Stiles watches as a single tear fights its way down Derek’s cheek. “Laura loved you, Derek.”

“I know. I just wish she was still here. It’s been three years and I still can’t-” Derek cuts himself off. “I miss her.”

“I sleep at my mother’s grave every year afterwards. You never deal with it; you just learn to carry the weight of it.” Stiles says. Derek looks up at him with watery eyes and nods.

“Thank you.” Then the pups run down the stairs, tripping over themselves to try and get to the kitchen first. Derek and Stiles share a last look and that’s all that is said on the subject.

 

*~*~*

 

“Have fun, boys,” His father says as he leaves the house. Stiles sticks his tongue out at his father’s retreating back.

“I can’t believe him. I go away to college and he tells me to clean out the attic first. Seriously, no one’s been in there since before my mom-” Stiles cuts himself off. “I can’t believe him.”

“If we start now, we should be done by the time he gets back.” Derek says. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter, pulling on worker’s gloves.

“Why are you even here? How did he get you into this anyway?” Stiles asks, pulling a smaller but similar pair of gloves. Derek flushes for some reason and Stiles becomes even more intrigued.

“He asked a favor.” Derek turns and starts up the stairs, effectively ending the conversation. Stiles sighs and follows, ending up in the attic.

“So what do we have to do?” Stiles asks.

“Your dad asked for us to make piles; keep, give away, throw out, and take with you to college.” Derek says, frowning at the messy and completely filled attic. Stiles sighs and gets to work, Derek following his lead. “Stiles?”

“Hmm?”

“If I find anything that was your mom’s, what should I…?” Derek trails off.

“Make a separate pile for it. My dad and I will go through it.” Stiles says. They stay quiet after that, Stiles drifting into memories of his mother. He tries to remember what kind of things would be up here. His mother’s old dresses and shoes, her old recipes that Stiles never found, books she forgot to return to the library she worked at, maybe even her guitar. “I’m going to take these down,” Stiles says, lifting the box of old baby clothes in his arms.

“Alright, I’ll keep sorting.” Stiles jogs downstairs and leaves the box in the living room. He’ll be keeping some of these, for his own kids, but some of them are too old to keep. He’ll throw those away and give some of the others away too. Stiles starts back up the stairs when he pauses. He hears a beautiful song, someone playing a guitar. He quietly finds his way back to the attic to see Derek playing.

There’s a beauty to the way he plays; watching his own fingers move and mouthing words to a song Stiles doesn’t know. His fingers move softly, tentatively, like he’s afraid of playing the wrong notes. There’s a small bit of stiffness that shows Stiles Derek hasn’t played in a long time, but it’s hardly there. Stiles smiles at how relaxed Derek seems, it’s beautiful really.

“I didn’t know you could play.” Stiles says. Derek stops and looks up, alarmed that he didn’t notice Stiles there.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t apologize! That was beautiful, Derek. Where did you learn to play like that?” Stiles pulls himself into the attic, smiling.

“I-I learned in high school, don’t tell anyone, please.” Derek says. Stiles frowns but nods.

“Why not? You’re amazing. When was the last time you played?” Stiles asks.

“I played in New York, on the streets. I made money that way until I got a job at a bookstore.” Derek says. Stiles holds back the flood of images of a sexy teenage Derek playing guitar on the streets.

“Why don’t you want to tell people?” Stiles asks.

“It’s just kind of personal to me.” Derek says, shaking his head. “Where should I put this?”

“In the pile of my mom’s stuff.” Derek looks over at him at that, eyes wide.

“I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Derek, it’s nice to remember her. That’s why I use her recipes. It’s why I learned Polish. I like having a part of her, so I don’t mind that you played it. You can have it, if you’d like.” Stiles says.

“I couldn’t…” Derek trails off, looking at the guitar. “Really?” He looks up.

“Of course. Take it; I’m sure she’d like it to be used.” Stiles stands up. “Anyway, we should keep going.” They stay quiet for the rest of the day, but the smile never leaves Derek’s face.

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles wakes up to a rustling around his room. He keeps himself from freaking out and slowly opens his eyes. It’s dark, so all he sees is the outline of a man’s back. He reaches under his pillow cautiously and grabs his knife and wolfsbane spray. It also acts as pepper spray, just in case it’s not a supernatural invading his room. He got the knife from Allison, who also taught him how to use it properly. Stiles jumps out of bed and sprays the intruder. The man flails and falls down, the wolfsbane instantly stopping him. When the guy is on the floor, Stiles turns on the light and sighs.

It’s just Derek.

“Come on, Derek. We talked about this.” Stiles is basically talking to himself. Derek will be out for the next five minutes. But Derek promised not to break in through the window anymore. Stiles had thought they were clear. Stiles glances at his dresser, where Derek was searching, and tries to figure out what Derek was looking for. For the life of him, he can’t figure it out. Stiles looks back to Derek, who looks almost like he’s sleeping. Something about the way Derek’s features relax into a normal resting face does something to Stiles’ heart. “My God, he’s beautiful.”

Stiles gets dressed while he waits for Derek to wake up. He only has to go in today to take one of his final tests, so he doesn’t put too much thought into his outfit. He pulls on a Henley that he stole from Derek and some threadbare sweatpants. He debates wearing his fuzzy wolf socks but ultimately pulls them on. They should give him good luck on the test. Stiles hears stirring and turns to look at Derek.

“What happened?” Derek asks sleepily.

“You showed up here unannounced, that’s what happened. I wolfsbane-sprayed you.” Stiles says. “What were you looking for, anyway? Why didn’t you just ask?”

“I was lookin’ for a shirt.” Derek says, still drowsy.

“Why?”

“Smells like you.” Derek seems to blink himself awake. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be here. I’ll, uh, go.” Derek leaves through the same window he entered in and Stiles sighs as he watches him go. Why is Derek being so weird?

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles watches as the pack trains. Jackson and Isaac are fighting Allison, learning how to defend themselves against a hunter. Cora is supervising but Stiles thinks it’s just so she can watch Isaac with his shirt off. Erica and Lydia are actually having a discussion about women werewolves and how their menstrual cycle can be affected by their moon cycle. Stiles found it extremely interesting, but judging by Erica’s face, she does not. Scott and Boyd are sparing as Derek watches, making sure they aren’t letting either of their guards down. Stiles is proud of them all to be so focused on their work.

“Stiles,” Derek calls. “Come over here.”

“What’s up, Der-Bear?” Stiles asks, walking over.

“You need to learn how to defend yourself.” Derek says. Stiles scoffs.

“Yeah, I already know how to do that.” Stiles says, looking around at the pack. Stiles has been taking self-defense classes since he was seven, and for the past year he’s been learning how to fight from both Allison and her father.

"You're going away to college, you won't have us there to protect you 24/7 anymore."

“Seriously, don’t worry about me.”

“Prove it.”

“Huh?”

“Prove you can defend yourself, fight…” Derek trails off. “Isaac.”

“What?! No, I’m not hurting that puppy.” Stiles sends Isaac a smile.

“Fine, Jackson.” Stiles considers it, eventually nodding.

“Alright.” Everyone watches as they get into position. Jackson grins at Stiles, seemingly happy that he gets a free pass to hurt Stiles. But Stiles knows he’s not, he’s just being a douche ~~like always~~. Jackson lunges and Stiles dodges, pulling out the blade he keeps hidden on his ankle and turns. He grabs Jackson’s arm, surprising him, and holds the blade to his throat, point of the blade digging into his Adam’s apple. “Good enough?”

“But-but…” Derek gapes at them. Stiles releases Jackson who frowns and walks away quickly. Erica whoops, Allison smiles proudly, Lydia seems vaguely impressed, Scott already knew, Boyd is as stoic as ever, and Isaac seems a little frightened.

“I’ve been taking defense classes for years and Allison is a great teacher.” Stiles walks over and pats Derek’s cheek.“Take that, Sourwolf.” The training ends soon after that, Derek a little too in shock to keep barking orders (He’d kill Stiles for that dog reference, but it’s too good to pass up). Stiles is cleaning up-he ended up being sprayed with a hose when the pack tried to cool off-when Allison enters the room.

“You could’ve just asked me to tell Derek about the lessons.” Allison says.

"He asked me to prove it.” Stiles shrugs, not looking at her. She’s the only one that hasn’t confronted him yet. He can’t have everyone knowing about it.

“You wanted to show off for him.” Allison says, smirking.

“Stop with that look, you’re too angelic to make that face.” Stiles waves his hand at her, hopefully getting her to drop it. Allison’s face softens and she leans back against a tree.

“Do you love him?” Stiles sighs, dropping the towel in his hands.

“No, I don’t.”

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles tucks himself into his mountain of blankets and resumes his watching of _Finding Nemo_ and crying into a box of tissues. There’s a quick knock on his door and he looks up, expecting to see his dad, and finding Derek.

“What-what are you doing here?” _Sniff!_

“What’s wrong?” He asks, rushing over.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” Stiles tries to hide further in his blanket fortress.

“Of course you’re not fine. Stiles, tell me what’s wrong?” Derek sits down on the end of the bed. Stiles frowns at himself and pouts. Of course Derek saw through his arrangement of lies. He sees through everything, well, except Stiles’ feelings.

Stiles told Scott not to tell Derek and to lie to everyone that he was just sick. Lydia doesn’t believe in lies, never, no matter what, so he asked her to keep it a secret too. Isaac had stopped by and Stiles made sure that Isaac would relay to Derek that he was sick. But apparently, Derek cannot be lied to.

“You know how you have those days you like to stay in and not do anything?” Stiles asks. Derek nods. “Well, this is one of my days.”

“This is the day your mom…?” Derek asks. Stiles nods and blows his nose.

“So you can go home. I’m good.” Stiles presses play. Derek gets up and leaves the room, and if he’s being honest, Stiles is a little disappointed. He watches until Dory is singing “Just Keep Swimming” when the door to his bedroom opens. Derek comes in and sets a plate down in front of Stiles. “W-What’s this?”

“Lemon Yogurt mini muffins.” Derek says. “Laura made them every year on the anniversary.”

“Wow, Derek, I-I don’t know what to say.” Stiles looks between the muffins and Derek, gaping.

“Move over.” Stiles does as he’s asked and Derek gets under the blankets with him and presses play. Stiles falls asleep just before Nemo gets flushed and Derek doesn’t move. He stays until the Sheriff gets home and comes into Stiles’ room.

“Thanks for taking care of him.” He says. “I’m glad he has someone like you.”

“Are you really letting him go to D.C.?” Derek asks. The Sheriff smiles softly.

“You have to let him go, be a college student. But he’ll come back. He won’t forget you.” He says.

“I-I don’t-I’m not-I-” Derek flounders.

“It’s alright. I know. I’m okay with it, it’s good for both of you. Thanks again, Derek, goodnight.” The Sheriff leaves the room and Derek sighs, letting his head fall back. He falls asleep with Stiles in his arms, content.

 

*~*~*

 

The party is in full swing. Looking around the room, Stiles’ heart hurts. He’s leaving all of these people in just a few short weeks. He thought this party would help him say goodbye but it’s just making it worse. Stiles puts down his drink and rushes off into one of the many bedrooms in Jackson’s house. He settles down on the bed, head in his hands, and starts crying.

“Stiles?” Stiles doesn’t look up, he knows it’s Derek. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to miss you guys!” Stiles sobs into his hands. He feels someone sit down next to him and rub his back soothingly.

“You’ll see us all the time.” Derek says.

“It won’t be the same. Scott can’t see me roll my eyes over the phone when he goes on and on about Allison. Lydia can’t criticize my clothes over Skype, not perfectly like usual. Isaac can’t cuddle with me when he gets scared, Erica can’t cry with me when a stupid, ugly, lying liar of a dress makes her feel fat, Jackson can’t lovingly punch me in person, Boyd can’t make that half smile when he tries my food! I won’t be able to see you, banter with you easily, cook you stupid sweets to make you smile, poke your cheek when you’re too grumpy. It won’t be that _same_.”

Derek doesn’t reply right away. Stiles looks up at him from between his fingers to see Derek looking around the room. He’s innocently not noticing Stiles’ meaning from his words. _I can’t be with **you**_. It was there, under the words he spoke, implied by his tone, by his feelings. Derek had to see it, he could see through everything. But by either innocent obliviousness or hopeful denial, Derek didn’t see it.

Shouldn’t Derek know? After everything they’ve gone through, after everything they’ve done for each other, shouldn’t Derek know how much Stiles loves him? It seems almost impossible for Derek to be unaware and yet, here he is, looking over the truth somehow, some way.

“It’s going to be okay, Stiles. It’s gonna be okay.”

_Is it?_

 

_*~*~*_

 

Stiles drives over to Lydia’s quickly. They said it was an emergency. Stiles had hoped that in his last weeks at Beacon Hills there would be peace. No more monsters or hunters or packs, just a peaceful town for the next few weeks. Welp, looks like that went to hell. Stiles parks in her driveway, noticing everyone else’s cars are there; Scott’s dirt bike, Allison’s grey Camry, Erica’s pick-up-which Stiles guesses Boyd came in too-, Jackson’s Porsche, Cora’s new bug-which Isaac probably came in as well- and Lydia’s Toyota. He’s surprised to see Derek’s Camaro nowhere to be found. Stiles runs inside to find most of the pack in the living room.

“What’s the emergency?” He asks, looking from one face to another frantically. Now Derek’s absence is scaring him.

“There is no emergency, well, unless you count UST an emergency.” Lydia says, staring him down with the stone gaze of hers.

“What do you mean, where’s Derek?” Stiles asks.

“Sit down, we’ll explain everything.” Allison says softly. Stiles does as she asks but hardly calms down at all.

“Derek’s fine,” Boyd says. “He’s at the loft.”

“What’s happening?”

“Stiles, we need to confront what’s going on between you and Derek. Before you leave for college, you have to define what’s happening.” Erica says.

“Seriously, it’s getting annoying, Stiles.” Jackson says. That’s when Stiles knows they’re serious. Jackson never calls him “Stiles”. It’s either “Stilinski” or “Mom”, but never “Stiles”.

“What I feel for Derek is no concern for you guys.” Stiles says.

“Mom, please,” Isaac seems heartbroken and Stiles’ heart hurts.

“What do you want me to do? I’m leaving, in two weeks. Nothing can happen, especially not now.” Stiles looks at his clenched hands.

“We want you to admit it.” Scott sits forward. “Do you love Derek Hale?” Stiles looks up, away from his hands, and into the eyes of his friends, his pack. Each one of them is pleading with him to just admit this, but he can’t. Admitting this makes it real and if it’s real… Stiles doesn’t think he could handle it if it was real. He takes a deep breath and everyone seems to lean in closer, wanting to hear it. Stiles shakes his head.

“I can’t. I don’t.” Everyone deflates visibly. “I _don’t_.”

 

*~*~*

 

Stiles leans his head against the window as they leave Beacon Hills. He’s driving to the airport, well, Derek’s driving to the airport, but Stiles is in the car. This is the last time he’s going to see Beacon Hills for a long time and it hurts; hurts somewhere down in his soul. They get down to the airport quickly, too fast for Stiles.

“Well, I guess this is it.” Stiles says, trying to laugh it off. Derek doesn’t answer, just parks and helps Stiles carry his stuff inside. They check his bags and Derek walks Stiles to the security check. Stiles turns to him, laptop case slung over his shoulder and a backpack with the essentials in his hand. “You gonna miss me, Sourwolf?”

“Of course,” Derek doesn’t smile, like he always does when Stiles calls him “Sourwolf”. Stiles wants to call him on it, tell him to “Laugh for once, you grump” but he doesn’t. Not now, when it could be the last time Stiles sees him for a while.

“You take care of the pack, okay?” Stiles nods. “Make sure Boyd eats enough sugar to make him show emotion. Check up on Isaac to make sure he’s okay, and ask Lydia and Allison too. Don’t fight with Scott too much and visit Jackson enough so people know he isn’t a total douche at college. Tell Erica she’s beautiful, she needs to hear it from someone else other than Boyd. And just,” Stiles pauses. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Derek’s eyebrows scrunch up, like they’re frowning at Stiles too. Stiles smiles softly, holding back everything he really wants to say.

“I mean don’t go back to brooding and not socializing with people. Eat dinner every night and watch TV. Just, don’t stop living just because I’m not there to nag you into doing it, okay?” Stiles asks, eyes red. He knows he’s on the verge of tears but he promised himself he wouldn’t cry.

“I-I won’t.” Derek nods. “I’ll uh, see you, Stiles.” Derek turns to go.

“Derek!” Derek pauses and looks back. “I uh,” Stiles pauses again. “I’m going to miss you Derek. A lot.”

“I’m going to miss you too.” Derek smiles once, stands there for second that lasts forever and is too short at the same time, and then walks away, leaving Stiles, who is holding his breath. All of his breaths are held for Derek, despite how much he denies it. Stiles watches his retreating back for a beat too long before getting on line for security.

 _Do I love him?_ Stiles asks himself.

 _No, I don’t_. Stiles answers himself. As he pulls off his shoes to put into a bin, the words cross his mind.

 _I just lied_.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! This fic is based off of Taylor Swift's "I'd Lie" and each part is based on a specific line of the song. I hope you enjoy, please comment and give kudos if you'd like. Thanks!


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